


The Ladies of Winter and Summer

by KielWhitehead24



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-03-06 11:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18850606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KielWhitehead24/pseuds/KielWhitehead24
Summary: Robb is married to Myrcella, and Sansa is trapped in King's Landing. Who will rescue her, and what will the cost be?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All rights belong to George R.R. Martin, and HBO. This is their sandbox, I'm just playing in it.

Tywin died nearly 10 years ago, and the West has prospered under Tyrion. He has made peace with Ned Stark years earlier, and has promised Gregor Clegane as a present to Dorne.

Ned has decent relations with the Red Viper and Dorne, having personally delivered the bones of Rhaegar and Elia’s children to them, and revealed to them the reality of Lyanna’s kidnapping. Doran does not blame the child or Ned, and they part of secretly friendly terms, including Jon being sent to foster with Dorne when he turned 12.

Jon Arryn has died, and Robert heads to the North, seeking a new Hand, and possibly more. Cersei is against it, but he seeks a betrothal, but not from where others expect…

Myrcella remains in Winterfell, having been wed to Robb Stark, while Ned takes Sansa and Arya with him to King’s Landing. Tyrion is with Catelyn when the catspaw attacks Bran, and so he is never a suspect. The war starts once Robert dies, and Joffrey becomes king. Ned still discovers the truth, and dies for it. Robb refuses to set Myrcella aside, as his banner men have called for him to do. They ride for King’s Landing, intent on rescuing Ned before his execution. They still capture Jaime.

For this story, Robb and Sansa are twins, both aged 16, as is Jon, while Myrcella is 15, Joffrey is 16, and Tommen is 13. Robert’s Rebellion was 17 years ago.

* * *

 Myrcella looked at the land around her in sad awe. Nearly a year ago she had travelled these same lands on the way to the North nearly eight months earlier, and now they were burning husks left behind by soldiers. She turned her mare as her protector approached.

“We need to return to Riverrun, your grace. If the wrong person sees you…” he trailed off.

“I know, Ser Brynden. I just wanted to see the damage. All of this is my fault.”

“Your grace, this-” his words are lost to her as she took off at a gallop, letting the Blackfish trail behind her. She entered Riverrun, the ancestral home of her good-mother, Lady Catelyn Stark. She swept through the halls, falling into her room in tears. She vaguely heard murmurs through the heavy door, but ignored them. If she and none of her siblings had ever been born, then her good-father would have never been killed. She knew how much the Stark family valued honor, and he had died for it. She had seen the sideways glances the Northmen had been giving her. She knew that many of them felt that Robb should set her aside, including his own mother, but he had promised her he would not. He said they don’t blame children for the crimes of their parents. She had warned Robb that her brother was cruel, and had often beat her and tormented her, all to her mother’s blind eye. Now he was riding to save his sisters. She was resolved to speak to her uncle/father. She had just sat up from the chaise, when the door burst open as her husband entered. He approached her and took her in his arms.

“My uncle tells me that you claim fault for the destruction of the Riverlands.”

She nodded. “If I had not been born, none of this would have happened. Lord Stark would still be alive, and your sister would be safe. My uncle can only do so much to try to bring a peaceful outcome. Joffrey listens to no one. He will torment Sansa, if he hasn’t already forced himself on her-” her words are cut off as Robb brings their lips together.

“I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. You are not responsible for your family’s actions. Did you remove my father’s head? Did you try to kill Bran? No. Those are the actions of your brother. Any abuse my sister suffers will be on his head, and that of your mothers.”

He kissed her again as his mother came into the room.

“Robb, we have...” she stopped as she took in the sight of Myrcella. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I need to speak with-”

Robb cut her off. “Mother, she is my wife. You need to refer to her as ‘your grace’ or ‘my queen’.

Catelyn blanched. “You were to marry the daughter of King Robert Baratheon. Not a bastard of incest between Cersei Lannister and the Kingslayer.”

Robb stood to his full height and glared at her. “How many times must I tell you mother? She is not to blame for her family’s crimes.” Myrcella has sunk back into the chaise. She didn’t even have her husband’s mother on her side. She had to leave. She hurriedly left the room, the Blackfish attempting to follow her. She stopped as she heard voices from the area where her uncle/father was being held. Years of having to hide from Joffrey aided her, as she slunk through the halls. She nearly gasped at the sight before her. Lord Roose Bolton stood in front of the cage holding Jaime.

“Tell your brother that once the Frey’s have convinced Robb to return to the Twins, we will make our move. The King in the North shall be dead, and House Bolton will be the new Wardens of the North, while the Frey’s are Lords of the Trident. The Lady Myrcella will be kept as a ward for a year, before marrying my bastard. He will be legitimized by the crown, and there will be a Lannister foothold in the North.”

Jaime shook his head fiercely. “The Princess will not be kept as a hostage! She will be returned to her mother and brother, and once the proper time has passed, then she may be given to your son; but not before. Tyrion will insist on it. You don’t want him as your enemy. He is not our father, but I think I need not remind you of what happened to the Greyjoy’s. Not to mention how he will view oath breakers and betrayers.”

Roose smirked. “That’s rather quaint, coming from the man that slit his king’s throat.”

Jaime glowered at the man. “I had my reasons.”

Roose nodded. “As do I.” He held out a paper to Jaime, and turned to give directions to the man standing next to him. “See Ser Jaime safely out of the castle. Kill the men at the steps. _Quietly_.” She slipped back into the hallway, and ran towards Robb’s solar. The Blackfish was there, as were Robb, Catelyn, Lord Edmure, the Greatjon, and Lady Dacey Mormont, the last two had been the most welcoming of the lords, saying they didn’t care what she was, as she pulled her weight, helped the wounded, and treated everyone with dignity.

She burst into the room. “Lord Bolton is helping Uncle Jaime to escape!” Robb froze as her words registered. The tale came pouring out of her. “I went to see him, but the guards weren’t at their posts. I snuck in and saw Lord Bolton talking to Jaime. He said something about the Frey’s and Bolton’s being rewarded by my brother, but Uncle Tyrion wouldn’t be happy.”

Brynden paled as he looked at Edmure. “They’ll try to slip him out through the river escape. Quick!” The two of them barreled out, followed by Robb. Robb shouted at the Greatjon over his shoulder.

“Take the Queen and the Queen Mother to the Lord’s Chambers. Protect them with your life.”

The Greatjon gave a nod before turning to his son, “You and Lady Mormont will stand guard outside the door. I’ll be inside with them. We’ll keep them safe.”

 Once they were inside with the Greatjon, he barred the doors so that no one could enter. She turned to see Catelyn looking at her in shock. “You just stopped your father from escaping. Why?”

Myrcella let out a sad smile. “Because he was never really my father. My loyalty lies with my husband now. My mother never protected me, and my father never had time for me. The Northern lords have mostly accepted me, and Robb has been supportive of me, even when I don’t think myself worthy of his support. Uncle Jaime once stopped Joffrey from-from molesting me. Jaime actually hit him, and protected me from then on. I admit, I was afraid he would be killed trying to escape, but I know that Mother would make Joffrey exchange Sansa for Jaime. If he escaped, she would never be free of the torments of my family.”

Catelyn stared at her for a long while, and Myrcella turned away, quite uncomfortable with the silence, when suddenly she was enveloped by warmth. Catelyn had embraced her more lovingly than she ever recalled even her mother had. She turned to look at her good-mother, who had tears in her eyes.

“Sweet girl, I owe you a thousand apologies. I fear I have let me emotions towards your family get the better of me. My son is right. We do not blame children for the sins of their fathers. That is something I have fought for many years. A long time ago, one of the boys came down with the pox. Maester Luwin said if he made it through the night, he'd live. But it would be a very long night. So I sat with him all through the darkness, listened to his ragged little breaths, his coughing, his whimpering.”

Myrcella looked at her. “Which boy?”

Catelyn’s face took on a hard look. “Jon Snow. When my husband brought that baby home from the war, I couldn't bear to look at him, didn't want to see those brown stranger's eyes staring at me. So I prayed to the gods ‘Take him away, make him die’.”

She looked at Myrcella.  “He got the pox and I knew I was the worst woman who ever lived: a murderer. I'd condemned this poor, innocent child to a horrible death all because I was jealous of his mother, a woman he didn't even know! So I prayed to all Seven Gods ‘Let the boy live. Let him live and I'll love him. I'll be a mother to him. I'll beg my husband to give him a true name, to call him Stark and be done with it, to make him one of us’. And he lived. And I couldn't keep my promise. I finally managed to convince Ned to send him to foster with the Martell’s in Dorne. That way if they still had any secret hostilities towards House Stark, they would be bore on him, and not my children.  And everything that's happened since then, all this horror that's come to my family...it's all because I couldn't love a motherless child. I have disrespected you in front of my son’s banner men, and for that, I humbly ask your forgiveness.” Catelyn broke down and started weeping.

Myrcella hugged her back, and the two women embraced each other in their thoughts of family. “You have nothing to forgive. It is I who should apologize for the actions of my family. My brother killed your husband and holds your daughters hostage.” The Greatjon coughed as the door opened and Robb entered the room with the Blackfish, both wearing mixed looks on their faces.

Robb spoke first. “They escaped. We wounded Lord Bolton, but he was able to make to the river shortly after the Kingslayer. We have groups out tracking them, but they split up. Bolton headed North, while the Kingslayer and his escort continued South. Send word to the other lords. Maybe one of them can catch them before they get too far.” He hesitated, looking at his great uncle.

Brynden spoke up. “Bolton managed to land a blow on Edmure, he may lose a hand. The maester isn’t sure yet. The Frey’s turned too, but the few that remained here were easily handled.”

Catelyn had stood up at the mention of her brother’s injury. “If you will pardon me, your graces, I must see to my brother.” She curtsied to Myrcella, “Thank you, your grace, for your kind words.” She swept from the room, Robb staring after her.

“Did my mother actually just curtsy to you?” he gazed at Myrcella in wonder.

Myrcella nodded. “While you were gone, we came to an understanding. I told her about my treatment by Joffrey, and she told me about your half-brother. I think we will get along just fine now.” She smiled as Robb embraced her, before leading her to his chambers. They needed each other tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb makes a happy discovery. A new character arrives seeking justice and vengeance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights, as usual belong to George RR Martin. This is his sandbox, I'm just playing in it.

Robb stared triumphantly across the fields at Oxcross. He had decided to march through the Westerlands, killing every Lannister he could get his hands on. He wanted to draw The Hound, Lord Sandor Clegane, and his army out into a trap, killing him and possibly forcing a peace agreement. Their forces had smashed the Lannister forces, killing Stafford Lannister and managing to take Martyn Lannister prisoner.

He grinned as Myrcella rode towards him, followed by his mother, as well as their protectors. The Greatjon, as well as Dacey Mormont, had taken Myrcella under their wings. The Greatjon had told him he felt like she was his granddaughter, and Dacey said that she was as strong as any Mormont lady; her strengths just lay in a different path.

Over the last month the grumblings about Myrcella’s birth had stopped, due to the efforts of his mother. It seemed that whatever had been said between them had ended the rift. Catelyn started to love her good-daughter, and had actually slapped Lord Karstark when he had said unkind words about Myrcella.

Once she had joined his side, they proceeded to approach the town of Oxcross, when he saw a silent sister attempting to placate a wounded Lannister officer that needed his leg amputated. Robb hopped off his horse to assist, and the man paled at the sight of Myrcella.

“You-you-,” he sputtered, “You’re the King’s sister. How could you! You would betray your family for these savages?”

Myrcella hesitated before continuing. “Please, ser, you must stop resisting. She can save you, but she must take the leg.” The soldier continued resisting, until Robb forced him still and Myrcella put a strip of leather in his mouth to bite on. The Greatjon suddenly swept her away, leading her back towards her mare.

“Come away, your grace. That’s not something a little lady like you should be seeing yet.”

Myrcella tried not to flinch as the man started screaming.

* * *

Myrcella laughed as she read a report over Robb’s shoulder. It was overheard by one of the Riverland spies in a tavern, and was sent on to Robb. Several Lannister soldiers that had escaped were travelling to King’s Landing, and were spreading tales of what had happened. She felt that each one was more outlandish than the last. She looked at Grey Wind, who had taken to snuggling against her for several weeks, and giggled.

“I can’t believe that you ate 20 Lannister soldiers after the battle; such a scary boy.” Grey Wind just lolled his tongue at her.

Robb chuckled. “According to this letter, you could be talking about either me or him.”

She laughed with him. “My mother must be so worried, what with me being in the hands of such a dangerous man! I fear you may ravish me if you see me.”

Robb looked at her with a loving and longing look that he knew made her love him even more. “My lady, I would never bring you such dishonor. You know that I would only ever do what you wished.”

She hesitated. She had had a sinking feeling she knew why Grey Wind had been so taken with her as of late, and the Queen-Mother had confirmed it not three hours earlier.

“I don’t know who will be more wroth when word reaches them; my mother or my brother. I fear what will happen to Sansa when-” she broke off, unable to finish.

Robb looked at her in confusion. “Word of what, my lady? I have done nothing to harm you?”

“I know that. But mother will surely think I am a prisoner, and when her and Joffrey discover that I am with child, surely they will mete out punishment to Sansa. Joffrey tried to molest me once; I can’t imagine what he would do to Sansa!”

Robb was staring at her. “You- you’re, you are with child?”

Myrcella nodded, hiding her face behind her curls. “Your mother helped me confirm it this afternoon, while you were speaking to Lord Forrester. I haven’t seen a maester yet, I wanted to talk to you first, and decide how-” she was cut off as Robb wrapped her up in an embrace. She felt hot tears hit her face as he looked deep into her eyes.

“My queen, you will be the greatest mother in the world. Our child will always know love, and never fear. You fear my sister’s safety, and that makes me love you even more. We must tell mother, and then, I think it is time someone meets with your uncle Renly. He might see fit to grant the North it’s freedom, and he has the armies needed to take King’s Landing swiftly before word could reach your family’s ears about our child.”

Myrcella nodded. “Uncle Renly was always nice to me. After Joffrey…” she trailed off as Robb squeezed her hand, “after Joffrey tried to molest me, and Jaime had gotten me away, Renly happened upon us. He immediately knew what had happened, and took me to his solar, where he began to plan a great feast that night, so I could dance and laugh the evening away with the other ladies of the court. He danced with me all night, and made me feel safe. He despised Joffrey before that, but after that, he loathed him so much that he told father that Joffrey was to never be alone with me again. Mother forbade him to ever speak of it again, but father agreed. That is partly why he considered marrying me to you. He wanted me to be away from Joffrey. Uncle Renly pushed him and pushed him until he relented.”

Robb still had her wrapped in his arms. “Then it appears I owe your uncle a great debt.” He stood up, “I will need to inform my mother of her journey. She will ride for Renly’s camp at first light. We will unite our armies, and we will rescue my sister.” Myrcella grinned as he left. She had been worried about his reaction to her being pregnant, but she could tell he was overjoyed. Her good-mother had wept tears of joy when Myrcella had told her that if she had a son, she wanted to name him Ned, after the grandfather he would never get to meet. Catelyn had promised that she would love her grandchild, no matter what it was.

Their relationship had healed over the past weeks, and Catelyn had shocked Myrcella after Lord Karstark had muttered about the men of House Stark seemed to like bastards, referencing Jon Snow. Lord Umber had risen from his seat, his intention of beating the man plain on his face, but before he could even stand, Catelyn had appeared in front of the man and slapped him across the face. Karstark had glared at her, until Robb showed up and all was explained to him.

Karstark had knelt before them and begged forgiveness. Robb had been ready to send him to a cell for a night, but Myrcella had begged it forgiven. Karstark had thanked her for her kindness, and had promptly sworn to her that if another unkind word came from his mouth, he would send himself to her for judgement.

That was the biggest thing she liked about these Northern lords. Honor and duty mattered to them, much more than it ever did to the lords in the southern kingdoms.

* * *

Oberyn slowed as he approached the doors to the Throne Room. He had come to King’s Landing at the behest of Tyrion Lannister and his brother, the Ruling Prince of Dorne, Doran Martell. Doran had heard words from Tyrion that the Princess Sansa Stark was no longer betrothed to Joffrey, after the Tyrell’s had joined the Crown following the death of Lord Renly. That made her expendable in Joffrey’s eyes, and he had taken to beating her. Doran had raged. Oberyn thought back to the conversation before he left.

_“It seems the Baratheon’s are not content to just merely bring suffering to one innocent lady. Lord Tyrion says that he fears what Joffrey will do to her.”_

_Oberyn shrugged. “Nothing would surprise me. The Butcher King raised a butcher son. Now he has a plaything to abuse so he won’t abuse his new intended. Think about it; the Tyrell’s have nearly 50,000 men in King’s Landing. The Stark’s do not. He can abuse Sansa to his heart’s content, and nothing will happen. He is relying on the famous Stark honor that they will not harm his sister. Or maybe he does not care about her, now that he has a crown on his head.”_

_Doran had nodded at him. “Either way, we owe a debt to the late Lord Stark. He alone returned Elia and her children’s bones to us. I know we want revenge, brother, but Elia would strike us both if we left another young girl helpless in King’s Landing. Tyrion will smooth things out with his family. You will retrieve the Lady Stark and bring her here, where she may be safe until we have been able to reach an agreement with the King in the North.”_

_He had set out with his retinue the next week, leaving Ellaria in the northern fortress of Dorne, as he refused to allow her to go to that awful place. Once he had left King’s Landing with Sansa, she would ride to join them, to offer Sansa the comforts of a lady’s presence._

 He found himself vaulting forward as he heard the cries of a lady in distress. The doors opened to a sight that set his blood on fire. A girl he assumed to be the Lady Stark was on her knees before the throne, her dress ripped open with one of the Kingsguard raising his sword to strike her. Tyrion appeared at his side, having heard of what was transpiring.

Oberyn nearly jumped as the Imp bellowed out at the room. Joffrey froze, clearly startled by the sudden appearance of both his uncle and the Dornish party. Sansa was trying to move, clearly worried that she was in the way of Oberyn’s path. Oberyn glanced over his shoulder at his sworn sword, Ser Daemon Sand whose eyes matched his own. He barely had to jerk his head before Daemon and three other knights approached Sansa. Daemon slowed, putting his hand out in a placating gesture, as Sansa was clearly frightened out of her mind. Daemon slowly helped her stand, and barely caught her as she started to collapse. He hefted her into his arms, and the three knight’s formed a weary guard around her as they carried her out of the room.

Oberyn fixed his violent gaze at the little butcher king.

“Your grace, I intended to come here for justice for my sister, but I appear to be here in time to save another innocent from butchers.” He put his most feral grin on his face as the boy paled. Oberyn knew at that moment that justice would be meted out, and vengeance would be his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! What a series finale! As usual, I appreciate all feedback. Comments help keep me going! Thank you for taking the time to read my story! I am humbled by every single one of you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is taken away. Oberyn makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, rights belong to George RR Martin. I'm just playing in his sandbox.

Sansa had been nervous when Ser Meryn had stormed into her room, grabbing her and hauling her into the Throne Room, where Joffrey waited with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Meryn had thrown her on the ground before the Iron Throne, and Joffrey had pointed his crossbow at her.

He had shouted about her traitor brother, and had his knight Lancel tell the court of the battle. If she hadn’t been terrified out of her mind, she would have laughed at his telling of her countrymen eating the dead.

She breathed a sigh of relief when Joffrey lowered the crossbow and told her to stand, but it was short-lived. Her blood turned to ice when he said they would have to send her brother a message some other way. Her breathing hitched as he told the dishonorable knight to leave her face, because he liked her pretty.

She stared as Meryn turned her towards him before bringing his mailed fist into her stomach. She had barely acknowledged the sound of his sword being drawn before the flat landed on the back of her legs. She fell to the ground, terrified of what would happen next. She raised her face towards the throne, and was horrified to see Joffrey stand once more.

She wished the Stranger would take her as he told Meryn to ‘unburden her’ of her clothes. She cried out as Meryn ripped the back of her dress open, nearly exposing her modesty to the entirety of the court.

As Meryn raised his sword again, she cowered from the blow, only to be thrown when a new voice thundered out into the room.

She wrenched her head around to see the Imp striding into the room with his sellsword, accompanied by a large party of Dornishmen.  The group started to approach, with the leader of the Dornish looking intently at her.

 _“You stupid girl, you’re in his way!”_ Sansa tried to move, but her legs had frozen, and she couldn’t move. She cried inside _“Joffrey will punish you for not moving.”_ She was aware of a quartet of knights detaching themselves and approaching her. She attempted to scramble away once more, but to no avail. The lead slowed his advance, and slowly extended his hand, approaching her as one would a wounded animal. _“That’s what I am,”_ she thought, _“a wounded wolf amongst a pack of lions.”_

She had learned quickly to fear knights and their rough handling, but he had the softest touch she had felt in months. She desperately tried to stand, but her legs refused to hold up. The knight quickly caught her, and brought her into his arms, while the other three knights quickly formed an escort around him. She tried to control her breathing, but the relief was too great. She was only vaguely aware of the Dornishman speaking into her ear.

“You need not be afraid, Lady Stark. The Prince will get you to safety. We don’t hurt little girls in Dorne.” She sank into the knights arms as they left the Throne Room. Ten more Dornish men-at-arms joined the escort, and they quickly made their way to where the steward was leading them. Sansa grew desperate as they left the royal family’s keep, and towards the guest quarters.

“Please, ser, you must take me to my room. I will be in enough trouble already. The King will be displeased with my escape as it is.”

The knight frowned at her words. “Lady Stark, are you not still betrothed to the King? No man has the right to beat his intended merely because her brother is victorious on the field. You do not fight his battles.” He turned to the man at his right, a knight in the service of House Manwoody. “Send for a maester to attend to the Lady’s wounds. She will be in the Prince’s solar.”

Sansa tensed at his words. Joffrey had forbidden her to seek out a maester. She would see one when he wanted her to. She did not want Pycelle near her anyway, for the man put her ill at ease. The knight seemed to realize her hesitation.

“My Lady, the maester will be one that accompanied us from Dorne. We have little trust in the Maester of the Red Keep. You must trust the Prince. He will come to you soon. He has some unfinished business with the King and the Lord Hand.”

By this time they had arrived at the section of the Red Keep that had been set aside for the Dornish contingent. Ser Daemon had carefully deposited her on the chaise, and was standing a respectable distance away from her, clearly trying to put her at ease. He looked at her for a moment speaking.

“Your half-brother had told us how pretty you were, but he did not do you justice, my lady. You are truly a beauty.”

Sansa blushed as his words sank in. “You speak of Jon?” The knight nodded. “He is my squire. He wanted to come here to help rescue you, but we knew the danger he would be in if someone saw someone with a fair complexion accompanying those from Dorne. So he guards Ellaria Sand for the prince at Kingsgrave. Your brother is a fine warrior. I was proud to have him as my squire. He spoke often of his family. The princes were the only ones able to contain him when word of your father’s death reached Dorne. Elia, the oldest of Ellaria’s daughters, actually stopped him near Planky Town. He had taken a horse, intent on riding to join your brother Robb in his march on the capitol, and damn near killed the horse to get there. He was desperate to rescue you and your sister from the Lannister butchers.”

Sansa was stunned at the revelation by the knight. She had treated Jon horribly the last years he had been at Winterfell. When their father had announced that Jon would be sent away to foster with the Martell’s of Dorne, she had sniggered and told him he would finally fit in with all the other bastards like himself. Ned had angrily scolded her, while Catelyn had worn a triumphant look on her face. Jon had looked at her with a hurt expression, and left. She hadn’t even said goodbye to him, refusing to leave her embroidery.

She started crying at her actions, ashamed of her arrogance. Her father had raised Jon as an equal to her and her siblings, and she had accepted him until she saw how her mother treated him, and had wanted more approval from her mother, and followed her lead. Daemon mistook her tears, and knelt near her. “Princess, please do not cry. Oberyn swore to your brother that he would get you away from King’s Landing.” He took her hands in his, and looked her straight in the eye.

“The day Oberyn found out of Elia’s death, he strode into the Sept in Sunspear and swore a blood oath to The Warrior and The Stranger that he would not step foot in a Sept until those that killed his sister and her children had been given to the Stranger and Father for judgement. But he took your brother into the Sept and swore another oath to him in front of The Seven that he would see you safely from King’s Landing.”

Sansa stared at him. “Why would he break his oath to the gods for me? What am I compared to his sister?”

Daemon started to speak when the clear voice of the Prince of Dorne spoke from the doorway. “My sister would have slapped myself and my brother if we put revenge for her above those of another girl as trapped and helpless as she. My brother will welcome you in Dorne, my lady. It was a closely guarded secret, but your father had made peace with House Martell almost immediately after the war. When he returned Ser Arthur Dayne’s sword to Starfall, the Dayne’s arrested him and sent him to Sunspear. He spoke with my brother at length, and the truth of the war was revealed. I will not speak such things in this place, for there are eyes everywhere. But once you have been safely taken from this city, I will disclose all to you. Now,” he said as he approached her, “let us allow the maester to take a look at your injuries.”

He beckoned for the maester to approach. “Princess Sansa, I will be outside should you require my presence. Know that Maester Farshaen will never hurt you. He is of Dorne, and we do not hurt girls in Dorne.” He bowed to her, a great low sweeping bow, before joining Ser Daemon in the anterior of the solar.

* * *

Oberyn tried his hardest to ignore the tears spilling from Sansa as he stood watch outside the solar. He knew Farshaen would be as gentle as possible, as Oberyn had warned him of what to expect. He turned to Daemon.

“Lord Tyrion fears the only way we may be able to get her free would be to arrange a marriage between us. I fear that any reassurances I give her would not be accepted. The Imp informed me that Sansa is always followed by two Lannister guards for her ‘protection’, by order of the Queen Regent. I want you and Ser Cletus Yronwood to stand guard over her. I will make it clear to her that they are not watching her, but to protect her. He is big enough to give the filthy men that call themselves Kingsguard pause. They will underestimate you as a Sand, so will no doubt be overconfident if they try anything. I will wait here, while you have a most important task. Find the fastest horses in our group, and the best riders. Tell them to make haste for House Wyl. Nymeria, Obara, Elia, and Jon wait there for word from me. They know the task before them. Ellaria will be needed to help soothe Sansa’s fears. She will be accompanied by another 200 Dornish spears. I did not want her to come, but we feared this may be what came to pass. She can reassure Sansa I will not act on anything without her approval. We may have to throw our lot in with the King in the North, but at least Sansa will be safe. If she wishes, we will return her to her family. They say that the Lannisters always pay their debts. I have a debt to collect as well. It will start with snubbing my nose at the ones that butchered Elia, as I prevent them from sending another to her fate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What what? Two chapters in two days? The creative juices are FLOWING!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I want to again thank all of you that have taken the time to humble me and read this story! Please leave a comment, as I appreciate any and all interaction with my readers. Thank you in advance if you do leave a comment. Kudo's are appreciated as well! As always, Valar Morghulis!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb moves. Family is returned. A pact is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights still belong to George RR Martin. I'm just playing in his sandbox.

Robb growled in frustration. His mother had fled back into their camp with a hulking woman sword at her side, declaring that Renly had been assassinated by Stannis, and that Stannis had informed her that Robb was a usurper in his eyes. Robb had no one to turn to for support. He had lost a significant part of his army when the treason of Bolton was discovered. He still had no clue where the turncloak had fled to, but he assumed he had made his way to the Twins, to try to rally the Frey forces to defend against an attack. He had promptly ordered Theon and Lord Reed back to the Twins in an attempt to keep them bottled up there, knowing that Reed’s Crannogmen would not let the traitors into the North. Theon would secure the Southern side, and once the North was victorious against the Lannisters, they could deal with the betrayers. Robb had considered asking Theon to return to his father to seek an alliance with the Ironborn, but days before, word had reached them of the Ironborn taking Deepwood Motte from House Glover in the name of Balon Greyjoy, who had styled himself as King of the Iron Islands and the North. Lord Glover had wanted to send Balon Theon’s head in a box, but Theon had knelt before him and disavowed himself from the Greyjoy family. He swore before The Seven that he would never raise a hand against House Stark. Balon had given him up instead of keeping him, a betrayal of all the teachings of the Ironborn. He declared Ned Stark his real father, and he would fight to avenge his death till his last breath. Glover had ceased his calls for Theon’s head, and Catelyn had embraced him, while Robb had declared Theon a brother for life, and he would be given a keep in the North, possibly even the Dreadfort, as the Bolton’s would have no more need of it. The Northern forces had turned from the Westerlands, Robb deciding to return to the Riverlands, hoping the move may catch the Lannister forces marching to retake the West by surprise. He had no other choice than to smash the Lion forces, and hope that Tyrion could persuade Joffrey to see reason. They had scarcely entered Riverrun once more when a guard came up to him panting.

“Your grace, the scouts have detained three riders seeking an audience with you. They refused to give their names, but the one that appeared to be in charge told them to give you this.”

The man held out a dagger. Robb stopped as he caught sight of the dagger. It was the very dagger that he had given to Jon before he left to travel to Dorne. Robb jumped off his horse, and hurried towards where the guard gestured. He abandoned all pretenses as he jogged towards the man approaching him. He had his brother back.

* * *

Myrcella grinned as she watched her husband hug his half-brother. She envied the relationships the Starks had. She had never come close to anything resembling a loving family with her own. Her father never had time for her, her mother cared most for Joffrey, Joffrey was a horrible person, and Tommen was just too little for her to grow that close to. Catelyn came and stood by her as Robb and Jon embraced and spoke quietly to one another, tears in their eyes.

Catelyn linked her arm with Myrcella’s, “Now we can begin to make things right.” She approached her son, who Jon released when he saw her nearing them. She shook her head at him sadly. “My King, I have a request to make of you.” She bowed to him, before walking and embracing Jon. “This man was the son of my husband, and I treated him with shame all his life. Now I wish to rectify that error. I would ask that you name him Jon Stark, trueborn son of Eddard Stark.” Jon and Robb both stared at her in disbelief.

Robb grinned after a moment, and embraced Jon’s shoulders. “From this day forth until your last day, you are Jon Stark, son of Ned Stark, prince of Winterfell.” The lords and soldiers gathered in the courtyard cheered. Catelyn embraced Jon, whispering something in his ear. Robb came to her and led her towards Jon.

“Brother, I would like to introduce you to my wife, Queen Myrcella.”

 Jon knelt before her. “Your grace, it is wonderful to meet you.”

Suddenly the two people accompanying Jon, both wearing hooded cloaks over their clothes, cleared their throats. Jon grinned as he stood up.

Your Grace, Your, Grace, Queen Mother, allow me to introduce you to my two companions: Nymeria and Elia Sand, daughters to Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne.”

Myrcella felt her stomach flop as he announced them. The family that hated the Lannisters more than anyone stood in front of her. Here she was, the daughter of the one the Dornish called the “butcher king”. Her mother had raved about the insanity and danger of the Dornish princes, and had vehemently argued with Robert when he had considered sending Myrcella to wed Prince Doran’s youngest son, Trystane. But Cersei won out once Trystane was killed in a boating accident. A storm had caught them unaware, and the rumors swirled that he had made all the crew board the longboats before he would, when the mast collapsed, crushing him beneath it. Cersei had scoffed at the news that Doran had not held the crew responsible, saying that the Martell’s had grown soft under Doran, that she would have killed each and every member for not insisting their prince make it to safety first. The two women approached, and bowed to the Stark family.

The older one, Nymeria, spoke first. “Your grace, we bring word from my father, Prince Oberyn. I suggest we speak in private; this is not something for the ears of others.

* * *

Catelyn cried in sorrow as Nymeria read the scroll from her father. Her daughter was in the hands of monsters. Myrcella had tried to warn them of Joffrey’s nature, but she had no idea it was truly so bad. They had abandoned her daughter to a pack of lions. The only saving grace was the efforts of protection taken by Lord Tyrion. But the King was a vicious one, and her daughter had become a plaything for Joffrey. Nymeria had told them that the only way to get Sansa out of King’s Landing was for Oberyn to marry her. Robb had sworn, until Jon had pulled him aside and told him of Oberyn’s respect towards women. Catelyn had questioned about his paramour, Ellaria. Nymeria and Elia both had reassured her that Ellaria was already on her way to King’s Landing, as the heir to House Uller of Hellholt. Her father had legitimized her and named her his heir a year earlier, and had expressed her well wishes that Oberyn save the girl from the Lannisters. Their daughters would not be set aside by Oberyn, and would split time between Oberyn and Ellaria. Jon spoke of the kindness extended to him, and how only the princes had been able to keep him from riding for King’s Landing after Elia caught up to him outside of Planky Town.

Jon looked at Robb and Catelyn. “I know you don’t necessarily like this, but Oberyn marring her may be the only way to get her safely out of King’s Landing.” He hesitated, before nodding to Nymeria who took up after him. “There is something else. Once she is married to my father, Oberyn would surely join your fight. But we are already pledged to another’s fight. Prince Doran’s son Quentyn is currently on a ship bound for Essos. In exchange for her hand in marriage, Dorne is prepared to fight alongside Daenerys Targaryen. She will need more than our support alone. If the North helps her alongside Dorne, what can she do except honor our independence? You would still be King in the North, and Dorne would be your ally. If you wanted, Daenerys might even allow the Riverlands to join you, as repayment for the crimes committed by Aerys Targaryen.”

* * *

Robb nodded slowly as he listened to Nymeria. He did not want to fight any more, but he knew what would happen if he did not. If the Lannisters won, the Starks would die. If they won, would it be in time to save Sansa. As he contemplated his choices, Elia spoke up. “My father has sworn two blood oaths in the Sept of Sunspear. The first was that he would avenge his sister’s death before ever setting foot in a sept again. But after Jon tried to leave, he entered it again, with Jon, and swore that he would see Sansa safely from King’s Landing. My father would never do anything to bring pain or dishonor to your daughter. If he did, it would be a toss up to see who punished him first; Ellaria or one of his daughters. Obara is known to heavily punish any rapists in Dorne. Men would rather kill themselves than be submitted to her punishments. She rides to King’s landing with my mother to provide what comfort they can to your sister that my father cannot provide himself.”

Robb stood and approached Nymeria. “It appears that Prince Oberyn is a man of honor. My sister cannot remain in harm’s way in King’s Landing. I have no choice but to agree to his terms. My sister will wed your father, but one the war is over, we would like if he would submit to a ceremony before the Old Gods beneath the Heart Tree at Winterfell. Allow Sansa to be married in front of the gods of her family, surrounded by her family.”

Nymeria grinned, “Your brother told us that you would want that. Oberyn had already agreed to it. He told me to tell you of it only if you seemed disinclined to agree.”

Robb shook her hand. “I owe him a debt of gratitude for helping to save my sister.”

Elia shook her head. “No. Dorne had seen what happens to innocent girls left to the Lannisters and Baratheons. If the Lannisters ever tried to take her back, they would die upon the spears of Dorne, and rot in sands. You in the North say ‘The North Remembers’? That is very well, but in Dorne we remind people that ‘Dorne does not forgive’. We will have blood for the death of Elia and her children.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again the creative juices flow today, so here is another chapter! Thank you to all who read! Thanks as well to those of you that leave reviews, as they are truly what helps keep me inspired to write, knowing that people are investing in my work. I hope you continue to enjoy "The Ladies of Winter and Summer"!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oberyn and Sansa discuss the future with Tyrion. A conspiracy is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, all rights belong to George RR Martin. I'm just playing in his sandbox.

Sansa started at the knock on her door. She had been mostly left to herself for several days after the beatings from the Kingsguard. It was all well though, as she could scarcely move her legs after they were beaten by Ser Meryn. Cersei had come to tell her that she had better stay away from the Dornish retinue, or Joffrey would think her a whore, and probably beat her worse. Tyrion had stumbled upon them and had Cersei removed to her chambers.

He had successfully neutralized most of her authority in the Red Keep, as he was the head of House Lannister. The Lannister forces, especially the Lords, were bound to the Lord of Casterly Rock first, and the Iron Throne second. He had told her he would make sure she was not disturbed. She opened the door hesitantly. She was met by Ser Daemon Sand.

“My lady, Prince Oberyn and the Lady Ellaria Uller have requested your presence in the Gardens. Ser Cletus Yronwood and I are to safely escort you there.”

Sansa tensed. The prince had been by several times with Maester Farshaen to check her injuries. He had made mention of a plan to help free her from the torments of Joffrey and Cersei, but he had not given details other than to say that he would wait until Lady Ellaria arrived. She nodded, and began to make her way out the door, when there was an arm extended to her. Daemon had his arm out to offer it to her. She gave a small smile.

“Thank you ser, I am afraid my legs are still recovering from my punishment for my traitor brother’s victory.”

 Daemon frowned at her words. “My lady, you are not to be punished. Your brother is fighting against an evil that Dorne knows only too well. When you are with the Prince and Lady Ellaria, you may speak freely. Oberyn will not let you suffer any further at their hands.” She leaned into him as they traversed the castle grounds towards the gardens. She stopped and stared at the woman waiting with Oberyn. She was one of the most beautiful people she had ever seen. The two quickly stood when she saw her and approached.

Oberyn grinned and introduced the two.

“Lady Sansa, please meet the Lady of House Uller, Ellaria. Ellaria, this is the one whom I was speaking of: The Princess Sansa, of House Stark.”

Ellaria gave a small bow to her, before taking her hands in hers.

“Lady Sansa, it is wonderful to see you up and moving about. When Oberyn sent for me, I feared the worst. But I see he has made sure you are well looked after. So now it is my job to reassure you.”

Oberyn interrupted her before she could continue. “My lady, perhaps we should call for the Lord Hand to be here, after all, it is his plan.”

Ellaria nodded as Ser Cletus went to find Lord Tyrion.

Sansa sat in a chair opposite Oberyn and Ellaria. She was nervous as she felt their eyes on her. “Look at her Oberyn,” Ellaria broke the silence, “She is nearly shaking in fear.” She stood and knelt in front of Sansa. “Sweetling, I will gladly reassure you that no man from Dorne will ever harm you. Oberyn’s daughter Obara is especially punishing to rapists and abusers.” She nodded behind Sansa’s back, where a young woman maybe ten years older than Sansa stood.

The woman approached her. “Princess Sansa, my father would be dead by my hand if he were to ever harm you. Men in Dorne that abuse or rape have rather chosen castration or the Wall than face me.” She caressed the tip of her spear, “I am, after all, my father’s daughter.” She gave a wicked grin as she looked at Sansa. Sansa knew exactly what she was referencing. The tales of Oberyn’s gift for poisons was well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

They all turned as Tyrion and his bodyguard, a former sell sword he had met several years earlier, a knight by the name of Bronn, entered the garden’ sitting area that had been taken over by the Dornish retinue.

Tyrion bowed to Sansa, before sitting on the chair they had provided for him.

“My Lord, My Ladies, I think it is time we discuss the Lady Sansa’s safe exit from the Capitol. Joffrey will be made to set aside his betrothed. The Tyrells wish to join us after the death of Renly Baratheon, and we need to find a way to bind them to the Iron Throne. The lady Margaery will be wed to Joffrey, and she will be his Queen, the poor girl. The Tyrell’s are ambitious, and want a queen in exchange for their armies and granaries. In return, Dorne can demand first rights to any prisoners from the House Stark, and Joffrey will grant Sansa’s life to you.”

Oberyn stirred in anger. “Dorne will not treat Lady Sansa as a prisoner to be tortured. I know that concept is foreign to most Lannisters, but Dorne will have none of it.”

Tyrion put his hands out in a placating gesture. “Of course not, Prince Oberyn, but that will make Joffrey quite happy to envision the punishments you would dole out on her. If you do not, he will keep her as a plaything to abuse so he doesn’t mistreat his wife, whose armies would not let him touch her so.”

Tyrion turned to look at Sansa. “My lady, the only way I could get Joffrey to agree to this would be for you to become betrothed to Prince Oberyn, and telling that it would strip you of any rights to Winterfell if your brothers fall.”

Sansa froze. She would escape one horror to marry a man twice her age. She was only vaguely aware of Oberyn asking Tyrion for a moment alone with Sansa.

Oberyn knelt in front of her while Ellaria took her hand as she sat next to her.

“Princess, as Oberyn’s former lover, I can assure you that he would do nothing dishonorable towards you. Dorne believes in the concept of mutual consent. If you do not wish to consummate your marriage immediately, he would not. He would never strike you, or hurt you in any way.”

Sansa peeked through her eyelashes at Oberyn, who was nodding along with everything Ellaria was saying.

“What Ellaria says is true, princess.”

Sansa looked up with a fire in her eyes. “Why do you all call me princess? My brother is a king in rebellion. If Joffrey or the Queen were to hear, I would be punished, maybe even killed as a traitor like my father.”

Oberyn took her hand in his, and his piercing eyes stared right back at her. “You have suffered indignities for too long at the hands of these monsters. You brother is rightfully rebelling. He is the King in the North, and as his sister, even as a prisoner, you are still a Princess of the North. If you were to choose to wed me, then you would also be a Princess of Dorne. In Dorne, you would not need to be the meek little wolf you have been forced to become by these lions. In Dorne, you could be the powerful and strong Red Wolf.”

His eyes were begging her to believe his words. “If something were to happen to your family, I can guarantee that the entirety of Dorne would marshal behind you to avenge them. My brother has managed to keep the hounds at bay for these past twenty years. He has been the grass, hiding the movements of the viper, concealing our true plans. Soon, our vengeance will be at hand, and you of all people deserve to be there to see it.”

He paused, looking around to ensure their secrecy. “You must tell no one, but Dorne has been laying plans for twenty years. We have made overtures to the Princess Daenerys of the House Targaryen, and by now, my daughters, as well as your brother Jon Snow, will have reached your brother Robb with terms for an alliance. In exchange for marrying you and seeing you safely from King’s Landing, he will help us fight for House Targaryen when Daenerys Stormborn lands. In exchange, she will allow Dorne and the North their independence.”

He rose, and helped her to stand. “Shall I call the Lord Hand back in for your answer, for again, nothing will be done without your consent.”

Sansa took a deep breath. She had been walking a tightrope for nearly a year now, and there had been no end in sight. Now there was an escape. She would be married, but the Prince had never given her a reason to fear him. Ellaria clearly had loved him, and Obara spoke quite venomously of those that would force themselves on a woman. Even the knight, Ser Daemon, had seemed furious at her treatment at the hands of the Lannisters and Baratheons. Her father had told her siblings and her about the honor of the Dornish ruling family, and the disgusting treatment their princess and her children had received at the hands of the Lannisters as well. She stood tall and looked him in the eye. “Yes please, Prince Oberyn. I would agree with your plan on one condition; we find a way to save Lord Tyrion when the Dragon Queen arrives. He has always been kind to me, and has attempted to protect me. After a particularly violent whi-” _‘I cannot let him now about the whippings’_ she thought, “After a particularly violent beating, he had me hidden in his own solar so that I might be able to attempt to heal my bruises.”

Oberyn’s eyes hardened at her statement, most likely knowing what she was leaving out. “Of course, Princess Sansa, we too know of Lord Tyrion’s honor. He rode personally to Sunspear not long after the _unfortunate_ death of his lord father to apologize to my brother for the death of Elia. He brought the body of Ser Gregor CLegane so that we could do with it what we wished. His body hung from the gates at Sunspear so that the crows could peck at him. Finally, after he was picked clean, his bones were thrown into the desert for the vipers. He rode to Sunspear knowing full well that we were liable to kill the first Lannister we could get our hands on in Dorne. Lord Tyrion agreed with us that we should keep the peace between us secret from Robert, as Robert was wary of the Dornish. He disguised his trip as a venture seeking a wife, but he was sadly unsuccessful. However, now that Daenerys’ mad brother is gone; there is a possibility of Doran potentially trying to get Arianne to wed him. It would serve as a symbol to the country that Dorne and the Westerlands have made peace. But that is conversation for a much later time.”

The three stood as Tyrion came back into view. Sansa stood tall as she gave him her answer.

“Lord Tyrion, I agree to your proposed marriage between myself and Prince Oberyn.” She felt a small fire start in her stomach. Oberyn was right. She was done being the meek little wolf the Lannisters had come to expect from her. She would become the Red Wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was honestly a fun chapter for me to right. I love getting to explore Sansa slowly recognizing that freedom is in sight. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, please leave a comment for me, I truly look forward to reading your thoughts on this journey we're taking. Thank you for taking the time to humble my story with your hits, kudos, and comments.  
> A special shout out of thanks to Abi117 for faithfully commenting in each chapter! Your words of encouragement and support mean so much to me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An agreement is made. Tyrion reflects on his journey. Oberyn gives warnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George RR Martin. I own nothing.

Tyrion nearly sighed in relief as he made his way back to the Tower of the Hand after his clandestine meeting with Prince Oberyn and Lady Sansa. He had been exchanging correspondence with the Princes of Dorne for several months about the king’s decent into madness, and the tortures bestowed upon Sansa Stark. Tyrion knew he had to get her out of King’s Landing and back to her family. He recalled the situation that led to him being named Hand of the King. It had been just after word had reached the Rock of Ned Stark’s execution…

_Tyrion, Genna, and Kevan had sat in silent shock as the missive from the Spider lay on the table between them. Genna had spoken first._

_“Cersei had gone mad. She has no control over that beast.”_

_Tyrion had nodded in agreement. “We’ll have no luck getting Robb Stark to the table now. He will ride against King’s landing and take the city without a second thought, and kill every single Lannister he can get his hands on. All thanks to Mad King the Second.”_

_Kevan sighed at the term. “We’ve got to do something. Cersei won’t lift a finger to stop him; she can barely control him as it is.”_

_“It’s hard to put a leash on a dog once you’ve put a crown on its head.” Tyrion said pointedly._

_“Speaking of heads,” Genna interjected, “The Spider also goes on to state that Joffrey dragged that poor girl to the wall of the keep and forced her to look upon her own father’s head on a spike.”_

_Tyrion felt his blood boil. “I will not let another innocent girl become a victim to the brutality of a Lannister. I will ride to King’s Landing to see what I can do to bring an end to this foolish war. Joffrey already had to contend with the Baratheon brothers, and now Jaime has been captured as well.” He turned to his aunt and uncle. “I need the two of you to convince Cersei it is in the best interest of the family that I be named Hand of the King. I can put the king in his place, and try to attempt peace with Robb Stark. At least long enough to quell Stannis and Renly.”_

_He began to leave the solar, already thinking of all the things he had to prepare, when a soft voice stopped him._

_“Tyrion,” his uncle whispered, “you do your mother proud.” Tyrion nodded, trying to hide the tear beginning to form as he swept from the room._

_He had arrived at King’s Landing with nearly a third of the Lannister forces, leaving the other two thirds under the command of Stafford Lannister and Lord Sandor Clegane, who had all the tenacity of his brother minus the bloodlust that made him infamous. Cersei had been furious, showing him the letter bearing Kevan’s seal._

_“You think I would ever name you Hand of the King?”_

_Tyrion smirked. “Of course, dear sister, or my forces will return to the Westerlands, where they belong.”_

_Cersei lashed out “You would abandon your king? I should have you thrown into the Black Cells.”_

_Tyrion laughed. “Dear sister, please do. My forces currently outnumber yours nearly two to one, and would take quite the offense to my being thrown into the Black Cells.”_

_Cersei seethed at him. “You would threaten us while Jaime sits captured?”_

_Tyrion glared at her. “Why do you think I’m here?  Jaime had no right to take Lannister forces into battle without my permission. I know those forces were under orders to follow your commands, or Jaime’s, but only inside King’s Landing. I know what Joffrey will do to the Stark girl, and we will never get Jaime back if the Northerners ever find out what he has done.”_

_Cersei finally deflated. “Fine; but Joffrey is king. You will obey his commands, and if you do not, I will have you executed.”_

_Tyrion had just smirked as he made his way to the Tower of the Hand._

He had managed to treat with the Tyrell’s, exchanging their loyalty in agreement for Margaery to marry Joffrey, putting aside Sansa Stark, knowing that Margaery would be much better at controlling Joffrey. He hoped this would make it easier for her to leave the capitol in exchange for Jaime. But nearly a fortnight later, he had been forced to write Oberyn, telling him of the abuses she had suffered after she was put aside. Oberyn had responded by riding immediately for King’s Landing, not even bothering to reply. Tyrion had met him at the Throne Room to introduce him to Joffrey, and to put a stop to what he had been informed was currently happening in the Throne Room. They had opened the doors to a monstrous sight: Sansa Stark on the ground, beaten, her dress torn open, and Ser Meryn raising his sword to hit her. He truly did not know who was more furious, himself or Oberyn. After they had safely gotten Sansa away from Joffrey, Oberyn had stressed to him that he would only marry her if she consented. Tyrion had agreed. He did not like the way girls had been treated in the capitol over the last several years.

Tyrion had been lucky that the Tyrell’s, in their efforts to prove their loyalty to the crown, had begun a siege of Dragonstone, forcing Stannis to fester on the island. Renly was dead, and Stannis held in check while the Tyrell armies marched to King’s Landing. Sansa had just given her consent to marry Oberyn, now they had to frame it to the king. He had just finished his last duties for the day when there was a knock on the door. He opened it to see Oberyn waiting for him.

“Prince Oberyn, do come in.”

Oberyn nodded at him as Tyrion poured them both a glass of wine.

Oberyn took a sip before looking at Tyrion curiously. “My intended has a high regard for your safety, Lord Hand. Before she would agree, she made me promise that nothing would befall you if she agreed to the match between us. She said that you alone had spoken out against her punishments, apparently not aware of our correspondences. For that I owe you a debt. Dorne pays their debts, much like you. So I will give you this one word. When Lord Varys comes to you and tells you to leave King’s Landing and travel to Dorne, do so immediately. My brother will welcome you, and explain everything. We will provide protection, and guest right.” He stood up, and bowed to Tyrion before leaving.

Tyrion was now more confused than ever. Why would Oberyn be working with Varys? It was too much work for Tyrion’s tired mind, so he decided to ignore it in exchange for sleep. After all, what could happen?

* * *

Sansa was nervous as she walked towards the Tower of the Hand. Tyrion’s squire, a timid boy by the name of Podrick Payne had come to bring her there. She hoped that it was to tell her of her ‘surprise’ betrothal. Tyrion had never been mean to her, and her father had spoken of how noble he was in comparison to his late father, the Old Lion. She was slightly scared as she took in the retinue of guards waiting outside the Solar. Ser Meryn and Ser Mandon’s presence indicated that Joffrey, Cersei, or both would be in attendance. She was soothed by the Dornishmen currently making the vicious members of the Kingsguard uncomfortable; Ser Daemon Sand, Ser Cletus Yronwood, as well as Obara, who was looking at Meryn with a murderous glint in her eyes.

Ser Daemon gave her a small smile to reassure her, before opening the door. Sansa steeled herself, and entered, ready to face her future.

* * *

Oberyn smirked at the King and Queen Regent from his perch in the Solar of the Hand. Tyrion had summoned them both (or rather requested that Cersei convince Joffrey to come to the meeting) so that they could spring the news to them that Sansa was soon to be off limits. They were waiting for Sansa to arrive so they could begin. Joffrey was nervous, having wanted the reassuring presence of his Kingsguard in the face of the Red Viper. Oberyn and Tyrion had laughed at what they assumed the Queen and her son had thought were hushed tones arguing about not offending Oberyn with the presence of their guards. Tyrion had whispered to him how he doubted it would make a difference. Oberyn had just grinned at him before schooling his face as the door opened, admitting the two members of the royal family. Joffrey had looked rather pale, while Cersei was watching Oberyn very carefully. The door creaked open, and Sansa entered the room, looking nervously at Tyrion and Oberyn. Oberyn put a smile on his face in what he hoped would be a reassuring gesture. Tyrion had elaborated to some degree on the extent of her experiences in the capitol after her father’s murder. It only made sense that she would be slow to trust anyone, especially someone that was a stranger to her.

She didn’t react, but Oberyn could tell some of the nervousness vanished from her eyes.

Joffrey grinned, having been informed of the plan by Tyrion. Cersei had tried to rally against it, but Tyrion had insisted, and as much as it had angered Oberyn, he had insisted that Dorne had first rights to any prisoners from House Stark. Joffrey had gotten a maniacal gleam in his eyes when Oberyn had said that, and he had needed no further prompting. His joy at the prospect of Sansa being humiliated and abused by the Dornish made Oberyn long to pull his dagger and bury it in the little butcher’s chest, but he held his anger in check. He had had to do so for nearly twenty years, what would a little more time be? Joffrey had been reluctant to let his plaything go, but Oberyn had appealed to his madness. He had quelled Cersei differently, told her to think of it the beginning of a growing bond between Dorne and the crown. She had reluctantly agreed, allowing Tyrion to send his squire to find Sansa. She bowed to the group before taking the seat at the end of the table.

The sick look returned to Joffrey’s eyes. “It appears your time with us is coming to an end, my lady. Prince Oberyn has stated that Dorne has first rights to any members of House Stark, for the humiliation borne from your dead whore aunt seducing Prince Rhaegar.” He sneered at Sansa, “So much for that famous ‘Stark Honor’. Between her whoring, your father’s treason, and your traitorous mother and brother, I think you’ve been extremely lucky to have kept your head for this long.”

Sansa looked like she was close to tears at the king’s statement.

Cersei at least tried to smooth over the king’s behavior. “Oh little dove, you will make sure to not embarrass yourself in Dorne. The King is putting your traitorous blood aside, but you are still a ward of the crown. You would do well to remember that.”

Joffrey sneered at her as he rose to leave. “You will never see your traitorous mother and brother ever again once you go to Dorne. I’ll be sure to send you their heads as a wedding present.” Oberyn glared daggers at him, and the boy shrunk under his gaze. “Enjoy you’re new toy, Prince Oberyn. I hope you enjoy breaking her in as much as I did.” With that delightful parting statement, he turned and fled the room. Cersei grimaced before turning to follow her son. Oberyn stood up and spoke, mostly for Sansa’s benefit.

“Queen Regent, now that Lady Sansa belongs to Dorne, your Lannister guards are no longer necessary. She will be escorted by dornishmen, and they will have orders to guard her from _everyone_. Is that understood? You will want to warn your son. I will not have what is mine damaged.”

Cersei curtly nodded before sweeping from the room. Oberyn spoke up. “Ser Daemon and Obara, please enter.”

The two entered the room. Oberyn went to the end of the table and took Sansa’s hand, helping her to stand. “My lady, for too long your ‘guards’ have been your jailors. That ends now. Ser Daemon and Ser Cletus will be your protectors as long as we remain in the capitol. Obara will also accompany you. Once you reach Dorne, Ser Cletus will be replaced with a more familiar face. The only thing that the King and Cersei insisted on was that the wedding ceremony would take place in the Great Sept within a fortnight. I promise you, my lady, no harm will come to you from my hand. Ellaria explained to you the Dornish concept of mutual consent, yes?” At Sansa’s small nod, Oberyn grinned.

* * *

Tyrion stood and bowed to them. “Lady Sansa, I apologize once more that it took me so long to arrange your freedom. I had hoped to return you to your family in exchange for my brother, but before I could make the offer, one of your brother’s banner men tried to betray him and free Jaime. He was foiled, and Robb is now focusing on quelling the dissention in his rank, as well as trying to repel the Ironborn that attacked Deepwood Motte.” Sansa curtseyed to Tyrion. “Thank you my lord. You have proven my father’s words of your honor to be true. He had a deep respect for you, and always spoke highly of your changes in the Westerlands.” Tyrion flushed with pride, but shame filled his thoughts. “My Lady, I am deeply sorry that my vile nephew murdered him. All men must keep their words, and Kings most of all. I know Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn, and let me reassure you, you will have no greater protector that Prince Oberyn. I trust you are aware that all of the words he spoke to Joffrey were in fact for his benefit, to ease his agreement.”

Sansa nodded in understanding, and Tyrion left the room. He hoped that Ned would forgive him for arranging his daughter’s marriage to Oberyn, a man nearly twice her age, and would be understanding that he did it for her protection. His father would have done it without a thought to the girl, merely seen her as a tool, probably marrying her off to some Lannister, so as to bring the North under the thumb of his family. Tyrion and his aunt and uncle had been working hard to undo the long lasting damage done by his father. They all understood that he was shaped by the softness displayed by his own father, Tytos Lannister, the Laughing Lion. Tywin had wanted to have as much power as possible, but Kevan had long tried to soften his brutality, as Joanna had before her death. Genna had reminded Tyrion of an old saying from a long forgotten civilization: “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Tyrion couldn’t agree more. He was fine ruling the Westerlands, and the Lords of the West were quite content under his rule. Crimes were punished, and loyalty was rewarded. Having Gregor Clegane brought up on charges had certainly helped. Many had followed his father out of fear. Now the Lords followed the Lord of Casterly Rock out of loyalty. He hoped that his actions would help make amends for him in the eyes of The Seven for his first wife’s fate. He still had nightmares about her fate. Shortly after Tywin had died, Jaime had ridden to Casterly Rock and told Tyrion the truth about Tysha. He had been outraged; telling Jaime that after the funeral, he was to return to King’s Landing, and to never return to the Rock. Jaime had informed him that after the guards had raped her, Tywin had given her to Gregor, and that no one had ever heard anything of her again. Tyrion had used that as his excuse to have Gregor executed, and had ridden for Sunspear within a new moon. He had made a stop in King’s Landing on his return, to swear his fealty as Lord of Casterly Rock to Robert, and to be confirmed as Warden of the West. He had apologized to Jaime, and recanted his banishment from the Rock. Jaime had nodded, understanding Tyrion’s emotions. He had failed Tysha, but he would not fail Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for reading this story, and as always, feel free to drop a comment below! I am grateful for each and every one that you leave! A thank you to Beka421 for her question about how Tyrion became Hand of the King. I had written how it came to pass in my story notes, but silly me forgot to actually write it into the story... So that is why he is featured so prominently in this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb and Myrcella meet with a newly recaptured Jaime, and learn the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George RR Martin, and HBO. Dialogue is taken from Season 3.

Robb pounded his fist against the heavy wood of the table in the Lord’s Solar of Riverrun. It had been nearly two weeks without word from the Dornish. Jon had left with Nymeria and Elia after delivering the news, saying that they had to meet Oberyn outside King’s Landing to escort him safely away. Jon had told them that she would be under the protection of Dorne, and free from the clutches of the Lannisters while Dorne prepared once again to make overtures to the Dragon Queen. Robb had sent a letter with Jon giving Sansa authority to treat with her in Robb’s name.

Myrcella gave him a sad smile from her perch on the chaise.

“I know you want her away immediately, Robb, but Joffrey will do everything in his power to keep her in the capitol.  Mother can only control him so much. Uncle Tyrion will help, and remind him how dangerous it would be to upset Prince Oberyn, but Joffrey does not like to lose his toys. It took both Jaime and Renly to convince my father to marry me to you. He won’t give up his ‘property’ that easily. Oberyn will protect her. I know father always was careful with anything involving the Dornish.” She hesitated, “I must confess that when we were introduced, I half expected them to kill me on the spot, or demand my head as satisfaction.”

Robb gave her a sad smile. “Father always said that the Dornish were rather like the Northmen; we don’t blame children for the crimes of their fathers. I know your mother was different about such things, but she is wrong.”

Myrcella nodded. “I know that people here think of her as evil, but I can’t help but still love her for being my mother. She wasn’t the best, but she was the only one I had. Now I’m going to be a mother, and I can’t help but pray that I will be a better mother than my own.”

Robb embraced her and put his hands on her slowly expanding belly.

“Our son will know the true love of a mother. He will be taught everything he knows by the wisest person he knows. He will never lack for love and affection, this I promise you.”

Myrcella kissed him fully as she turned to face him. “I want to tell Uncle Jaime about our son. I know that he is being punished for nearly escaping.” He had been returned nearly three weeks after escaping, having had the bad luck of running into a group that was fighting in memory of Ned Stark, having fought for him years earlier during the Greyjoy rebellion.

Robb snorted. “He would have escaped too if he hadn’t run into Lord Beric and Thoros.”

Myrcella nodded. “I know you need him in hopes to trade for Sansa, but he is still my uncle; my uncle that protected me as best he could from my brother. He might have heard something from one of the passing guards, and I want him to know you did not ravish me. I heard him talking with father once, about how he had been forced to guard the Queen’s room once when Aerys ravaged her. It was one of the hardest moments of his life. I know many do not think of him as an honorable man, but I know he is.”

Robb looked deep in thought for several moments. He finally nodded. “We will go see him together. May he look at us and see that all is right between us.” He held out his arm for her, and they made their way towards the cells. Rodrik Forrester and Dacey Mormont accompanying them for protection, they still were unsure of Bolton’s whereabouts, and the guard had been doubled around the prisoners, to prevent him from attempting to free Jaime again.

When they arrived, Jaime was nearly glaring at Robb. “What boy, finally decided to have my niece share my cell? As if you haven’t punished me enough?” Robb returned the look.

“No, we came down here to talk to you. Myrcella has something she wants to tell you. We didn’t want you to find out any other way. I’ll be waiting around the corner with Rodrik, but Dacey will remain near Myrcella.” He turned and walked around the corner, leaving Myrcella to tell Jaime.

“Uncle Jaime, he is only leaving to show you that what I am about to tell you is not coerced. I am truly happy about this.” She slowly removed the shawl from around her shoulders, showing off the bump holding her child. Jaime’s eyes bulged as he realized what she was saying. He looked at her with all the love in his heart as several tears slowly started making their way down his cheek.

“Did he force you?” she barely heard his whisper, his eyes closed as he desperately wished for her answer.

“He would never do such a thing. I told him what you told Tyrion of the Mad King’s treatment of his wife, and he was an angry as you were. He swore to me on his knees that he would never hurt me, or blame me for the actions of my family. The Northern lords have all protected me from dangers, and Lord Umber treats me as if I am his own granddaughter. They have honor, and respect those they deem worthy of honor. If you were to explain why you killed the mad king, Robb would not judge you.”

Jaime gave a harsh laugh. “He would judge me guilty same as his father, who did not even ask why. He judged me guilty the moment he stepped into the Throne Room. And I gravely doubt his honor, if his punishment for my escape is any example.” He stopped, glancing down as his arm that was held oddly against his chest, the energy gone from his body. He sighed. “I’ve only ever told my brother what happened in that Throne Room. Everyone asks me what his last words were, but no one stops to think about them.” Myrcella turned towards the corner where Robb was standing. She took his arm and led him back to stand in front of Jaime’s cell. She whispered directions to him. Robb looked at her with questions in his eyes before nodding.

“Alright, Ser Jaime, I would hear your story of why you killed the Mad King. Myrcella told me of how you protected her from Joffrey, and how you wanted to protect the queen from Aerys. I would listen to your reasons.”

Jaime gave a grimace as he began. “Ah, there it is. There's the look. I've seen it for 17 years on face after face. You all despise me. Kingslayer, Oath breaker, a man without honor.” Jaime looked past Robb, clearly remembering the past. “You’ve heard of wildfire?” Robb and Myrcella both nodded. “The Mad King was obsessed with it. He loved to watch people burn. The way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off the bones. He burned lords he didn't like. He burned Hands who disobeyed him. He burned anyone who was against him. Before long, half the country was against him.”

Jaime took a deep breath. “Aerys saw traitors everywhere, so he had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city. Beneath the Sept of Baelor and the slums of Flea Bottom. Under houses, stables, taverns, even beneath the Red Keep itself.”

Robb stared at him in horror.  He clearly had no idea what had happened all those years ago. “Finally, the day of reckoning came. Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident. But my father arrived first, with the whole Lannister army at his back. Promising to defend the city against the rebels. I knew my father better than that. He's never been one to pick the losing side. I told the Mad King that much. I urged him to surrender peacefully.”

He snorted, “But the king didn't listen to me. He didn't listen to Varys, who tried to warn him. But he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle, that grey, sunken oaf. ‘You can trust the Lannisters,’ he said. ‘The Lannisters have always been true friends of the Crown.’ So we opened the gates and my father sacked the city. Once again, I came to the king, begging him to surrender. He told me to bring him my father's head. Then he turned to his pyromancer. ‘Burn them all,’ he said. ‘Burn them in their homes. Burn them in their beds.’” He glared up at Robb, “Tell me, if your king had commanded you to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women, and children burned alive, would you have done it? Would you have kept your oath then?”

Robb just stared at him in shock as Jaime nodded triumphantly.

“First, I killed the pyromancer, and then, when the king turned to flee, I drove my sword into his back. ‘Burn them all,’ he kept saying. ‘Burn them all.’ I don't think he expected to die. He meant to burn with the rest of us and rise again, reborn as a dragon, to turn his enemies to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn't happen. That's where Ned Stark found me.”

Robb slowly willed his mouth to work, his hand firmly gripping Myrcella’s for support. “If this is true, why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell my father?”

Jaime was nearly delirious. “You think the _honorable_ Ned Stark wanted to hear my side? He judged me guilty the moment he set eyes on me.” He managed to rise, revealing a bloodied arm, “By what right does the wolf judge the lion; by what right?” Jaime collapsed, clearly showing just what had caused his bloodied arm. Someone had chopped off his sword hand. Dacey quickly pulled Myrcella back as Robb and Rodrik jumped into the cell to stand him up, Rodrik pausing them long enough to remove their weapons. Robb shouted at Dacey.

“Get the Queen back to our chambers, and call for the maesters!” he thundered. Myrcella tried to resist, but Dacey pulled her away. “You must come with me, your grace. Your husband will not let him die. I don’t know who disfigured him, but I can assure you that the King will not respond kindly to them.”

She finally got Myrcella into the room, when suddenly Dacey was on the ground. A young man stepped out from the shadows. “Hello, Lady Stark. I’m afraid you are going to need to come with me. My father, Roose Bolton, newly named Lord of Winterfell, and new Warden of the North, wishes to speak with you at his new home.” Myrcella turned to flee when she was grabbed from behind by strong hands. Ramsey Snow, for Myrcella knew it could only be him, grinned at her captor. “Come, Locke, we will need to slip through while they are all focused on the Kingslayer. It’s a shame he won’t see his hand again.” He grinned as he waved Jaime’s bloody severed hand at her before leaving it prominently on the desk. “Now, I can’t have you seeing just how we are leaving, so I’m afraid that we won’t be able to talk for some time.” He forced a kiss on her as she tried to scream, before he hit her temple with his mailed fist, and the darkness consumed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I love how much Jaime starts to change once he loses his hand, so I decided it was time for him to lose it in the story. He is delirious, and therefore assumes that Robb had his hand chopped of in repayment for his escaping, and Edmure being injured during his escape. Another thank you to all that comment and review my story, you are truly appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb searches for Myrcella, and makes a discovery, while Myrcella learns more about her captors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George R.R. Martin, and HBO. This is their sandbox, I'm just playing in it.

Robb watched as the Maesters attended to the Kingslayer. The head maester, an older man by the name of Dayron slowly approached him.

“Your Grace, it appears someone removed the hand within the last twelve hours, and heavily dosed him with milk of the poppy, which would explain why he didn’t think to tell you about it, as well as his near lethargic state.”

Robb looked at him. “He could not tell of his wound, but he could recall the day he killed the Mad King?”

“From what I could gather from him, your grace, it appears he believed you to have been the one to order the removal of his hand.”

Robb looked on in stunned silence. Now some of the kingslayer’s words made sense. He had asked Robb if he had been punished enough. He mentioned that Robb had judged him guilty. Suddenly there was a burst of noise at the door. Maege Mormont and Smalljon Umber came running into the maester’s antechamber, bearing Dacey between them. She was bleeding rather profusely from a gash on the back of her head. Robb froze as the implications of her presence set in. Someone had attacked his wife’s guard. “What happened?” he shouted at Smalljon.

“Not sure. When my father and I went to check on them, no one answered. My father entered the room and saw her lying on the floor, covered in blood. He called for Lord Forrester, Ser Brynden and several guards to bring all the hunters and scouts they could find and to search the castle immediately. I’ve got your squire saddling your horse as we speak so that we can join the search.”

Robb nodded, trying desperately to calm his racing heart. He had to find Myrcella, he had to save her. They quickly reached the courtyard, where nearly 100 men were saddled and waiting for his command. He looked among his banner men, and with a heavy sigh told them of their mission.

“Someone has kidnapped Queen Myrcella, and injured Lady Dacey Mormont in their quest. Whoever finds and rescues my Queen will be greatly rewarded.”

The men began to stir, having been won over by Myrcella’s kind nature over the last several months. Lord Helman Talhart takes up the cry, “Queen Myrcella!”

The cheers echoed off the castle walls as the company thundered through the gates, intent on rescuing their fair queen.

* * *

When Myrcella came to, she nearly threw up. She was tied to a tree, with her arms wrenched painfully behind her. She felt the small trickle of blood from where she had been hit. Ramsey Snow was busy skinning a still alive rabbit in front of her. He grinned at her once he saw she was awake, his eerie grin sending a shiver down her spine.

“I’m so glad you’re awake. I’ve been practicing. Gotten a bit out of habit.” He tossed the rabbit to her feet, forcing her to watch it take its final breaths before grabbing her hair and forcing his lips to hers once more. Myrcella nearly screamed as he bit down on her lip. There was a small cough behind them and Ramsey quickly stood up, giving her face a quick slap. “Father, it went off just as you expected. I was able to get her in her rooms, and Locke and I snuck out without any problems.”

Roose nodded, clearly pleased. “How were you able to move undetected?”

Ramsey grinned even more. “Took a bit from the Kingslayer and left for them to find.”

Roose froze. “You did what?”

“I took his hand, and when someone realized it, they locked the lady in her chambers for safekeeping. They didn’t expect me to be there waiting for them. It was quite delightful to tell the Kingslayer that Robb Stark had ordered his dismemberment, in fact-” Ramsey was suddenly cut off as he collapsed in front of Myrcella, a dagger sticking out of his stomach. Roose stood over him, glaring down at his bastard.

“You were ordered to retrieve the princess without raising an alarm. Now Robb Stark is on high alert, and you’ve injured a potential bargaining chip. Tyrion Lannister loves his brother more than anyone; he would demand your punishment. I thought you were worthy of being my son, it appears I was mistaken.” With that he rolled the still breathing Ramsey away from him while turning to Myrcella.

“Hello Lady Stark. I hear you’re the one that ruined my well thought out plans.” Roose Bolton sent a sick grin at her. He whistled, and suddenly a small group of mounted soldiers appeared through the trees. They carried no banners, but their appearance gave them away. She was now a prisoner of House Frey. They quickly brought her up to Lord Bolton’s horse, before the party took off again.

* * *

Robb and Brynden were approaching the river with their group of searchers when suddenly a small group of wolves appeared on the horizon. He stopped as Grey Wind rushed forward, and the wolf that appeared to be the leader ran to greet him. The wolves met and immediately began to rub against one another. As he drew nearer, he gave a start of recognition. It was Arya’s direwolf, Nymeria. The wolf stopped and approached him, looking at him with a whimper of longing. Nymeria’s eyes looked at him just like Arya would when she was missing him during their visits to their banner men. Suddenly he felt a small nudge in the back of his mind. It wasn’t just Nymeria.

“Arya?” He questioned softly, wincing as Brynden gave him a sharp look of disbelief. The wolf quickly yapped and started wagging her tail. Robb grinned and ruffled the wolf’s head.

“Where are you? Mother is worried sick about you. We need to find you and Myrcella. It’s not safe. The Bolton’s have betrayed us and taken Myrcella. I need my family back with me. You know what happens to lone wolves.” Nymeria gave a small whimper before turning and trotting towards the river, stopping as if waiting for Robb to follow her. He signaled for the men with him to follow, and they began to follow the wolf into the trees around the river. They followed for nearly two hours, and as nightfall began to approach, they finally reached a strange camp. Two boys and a man stood near a modest fire, the chubby boy tending to a deer, while the older of the boys stood protectively next to the strange man and a slender body lying on the grass. The wolf stopped near the body, and Robb nearly jumped as the body gasped and sat up quickly. She might have cut her hair, but he would recognize his wild sister anywhere. He chuckled as she jumped into his waiting arms. Brynden was sizing up her companions, the two boys looking nervous while the foreigner looked emotionlessly at the reunion.

“I thought we’d lost you, little sister. No one had heard anything about you for weeks. We all feared that the Lannister’s were hiding that you had been killed.”

Arya snorted. “They tried. The Hound’s forces caught me hiding out with a group bound for the Wall. Yoren, their recruiter, recognized me from a meeting with father, and was escorting me back to Winterfell. Some Gold Cloaks tried to stop us from leaving, and when he bullied them into leaving, they returned with some of the Hound’s forces. They killed Yoren and took us prisoner. Jaqen helped me escape, and was escorting us to you when Nymeria found us. He’s…. been protecting me while I warg with Nymeria.” Robb looked at the man that was standing there under the unfriendly and distrusting gazes of the Northmen.

The man bowed to him. “This man has the honor to be at this time Jaqen H’ghar, once of the Free City of Lorath. I helped a girl and her companions escape. I was intrigued by a girls magic, and was studying it while escorting her to you. A girl still owes me a name.”

Robb stared at the man. “What do you mean, ‘owes you a name’?”

 Jaqen smirked before raising a hand to his face, and when he removed it, the man standing before him looked nothing as he did before.

Brynden gave a small gasp. “You’re a Faceless Man; from Braavos.”

The man nodded, before turning to Arya. “I once was a Faceless Man, but I left many years ago after realizing that one does not need to be a Faceless Man to follow the wishes of the God of Death. My travels led me all over the world. Once the First Sword to the Sea-Lord of Braavos, I eventually came to tutor a pupil in the Red Keep.” Arya’s jaw dropped as the man put his hand under her chin, raising her to look into his eyes. “What do we say to the God of Death?”

Arya grinned. “Not today.” The man reached for his face once more, and his appearance changed again, but it seemed to be one Arya clearly recognized, for she quickly embraced him. Robb could barely make out her words.

“Syrio, I thought Ser Meryn had killed you. I saw him when they killed Father, and I thought he had killed you.”

The man grinned. “He was child’s play. I nearly killed him with his own sword. But I knew that to remain in the castle would be a bad idea. I saw you in front of the Sept of Baelor, and followed you out of King’s Landing. Once we were away, I took the place of the real Jaqen H’ghar, and kept watch over you. Now, what happens next is up to your brother.”

Robb looked at Arya, who was now looking at him with begging in her eyes.

“This was my Dancing Master, Syrio Forel. He taught me everything he could about using the sword Jon got me before the Lannister’s tried to kill me. You can’t let him leave!”

Syrio bowed again to Robb. “Lord Eddard was a kind and just man. The dishonor placed on him by the Lannister snakes was most shameful. Many good and honest men were slaughtered in the name of ambition. If you would allow me, I would be most honored to continue to instruct your sister in the ways of the Water Dancers. I would even send for one of my dear friends, one who would be more than willing to help you in your quest.”

Robb nodded. “You have my thanks for watching over my sister, all of you,” he looked at the two boys that had been standing largely forgotten in the face of the startling reveal. “My men will escort you to Riverrun, while the rest of us continue to search for Queen Myrcella. I fear the Bolton’s have fled with her to the Twins. I can only hope that Theon is able to prevent them from taking her inside. I sent him with a force to keep the Frey’s in their towers until I can deal with them, but I do not know of his success or failure. Either way, we ride for The Twins, and will deal with Lord Walder.”

Arya glared at him. “I’m coming with you. Syrio and I can help. He can beat anyone with a sword, and he’s been teaching me the ways of the Faceless Men. Besides, if you send us to Riverrun, I can just have Nymeria lead us back to you.”

Robb sighed. “Alright; but you ride next to me and you do exactly as I say. If II tell you to flee to Riverrun, you go. Understood?”

Arya nodded “Good. We can rest here till dawn.” He hugged Arya as he introduced her to her Uncle, and listened as she introduced Gendry and the boy called “Hot Pie”. He thanked them for helping his sister, and upon hearing of their skills, immediately offered them a place in his forces. He didn’t sleep much, telling Arya all about Myrcella, and trying to make sure she understood that Myrcella was very different from her mother.

They were about to begin to set out for the day and rejoin the forces making for The Twins, when suddenly one of their scouts stumbled into their camp, holding a wounded arm with an arrow sticking out. He had just shouted that they were under attack, when an arrow shot through his neck. Robb barely had time to pull his sword before the forces descended on his party, shouting “For the King!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! It's been awhile since I last updated... I know this chapter mostly focuses on Robb and Myrcella, and nothing from Sansa and Oberyn, but the next chapter should focus heavily on Sansa and Oberyn, and a wedding!! Thank you to all that have read this story and stuck with me so far! I greatly appreciate it! I am truly humbled by every comment, kudo, and hit I receive. Please feel free to leave any thoughts you have on this story or chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is married, and reunited with family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George RR Martin, and HBO. Dialogue is taken from Season 3.  
> *Trigger warning at the end of the chapter*

Sansa was cherishing her newfound freedom. Accompanied by Ser Daemon, Ser Cletus, and Obara, she had been able to freely wonder the Red Keep once more. The Lannister guards that once mocked and sneered at her gave her a wide berth, and when she happened upon Ser Meryn once, Daemon merely loosed his sword an inch from its scabbard, and Obara caressed her spear, and the coward nearly ran from the room.

Cersei had tried to approach once with “a wedding dress for the little dove”, but Daemon had refused her entry, saying that Oberyn had already selected a dress for his lady to wear, and that as it had been made by family, it would be an insult to not wear it. Sansa had listened in quiet trepidation from the chaise, and only remembered to breathe after Cersei had barged away in a fit of anger at being denied entry, with Daemon saying that his prince had forbidden Sansa any visitors without his approval.

She was still struggling to breathe properly when Ellaria and Oberyn walked in from a stroll through the Gardens. Oberyn had quickly come to her side and began to comb her hair through his fingers while rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. Ellaria sat next to her and held her like a mother would a child.

“What is wrong Sweetling?” he asked very quietly into her ear, and she was amazed by how much of a calming effect his voice had on her. She tried to stammer out an answer.

“Ser Daemon denied Cersei entrance, and lied to her about me already having a wedding gown. She will punish him; she already disliked him for being a Sand. I don’t want him getting killed because of me. I’m already to blame for the Stark men that got killed after King Robert’s death; even my own father’s!” she cried out in hysterics, and began to sob uncontrollably once more.

Ellaria put a kiss on her forehead before Oberyn took both of her hands in his and began to speak.

“Dear one, I have known your father for many years. He was the most honorable man I have ever met. His undoing was his honor in a place that has no respect for such a thing. He did the honorable thing and allowed Cersei a chance to take her children and flee the butcher king’s wrath. But she craves power above all else, and so she betrayed his honor and Varys reported that she conspired with Lord Baelish to seize control of the Iron Throne. Your father followed the terms you had made with Cersei to spare him his life, but Joffrey is an animal with no handler. He did what he wanted to do, and nothing could stop him.” He tipped her head up to meet his gaze, “Look into my eyes and know the truth. You are not responsible for your father’s death. The blame lies solely on the shoulders of the new butcher king. In two days’ time you will be my wife, and then the 10,000 spears of Dorne will rise in defense of you and your honor.” He used his thumb to wipe the tear streaks from her face, enjoying the traces of innocence on her face that she believed lost. Ellaria nodded at him before rummaging through her trunks.

“Princess Sansa, you say Ser Daemon lied about a dress for you? I am pleased to tell you that he was in fact telling the truth.” She held up a fine gown, bearing the orange hues of Dorne. Sansa took a deep breath admiring the stitching of the gown. While it pained her that she would not be wearing a dress in the colors of her own house, she knew that Oberyn was clearing marking her as his, as if the obviously Dornish bodyguards frightening half the castle weren’t enough.

Oberyn seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. He took her arm in his and led her to where Ellaria was standing. He held the folds of the gown open, showing the interior of the dress to her. The trim was several inches in length of a dark grey silk, with the remaining interior a dark green, the same color of the Stark banners. Oberyn embraced her. “You cannot openly defy the Lannisters, but I have found over the years that a quiet snubbing is just as satisfying when your life is concerned.”

Sansa stared at the dress in quiet fascination and appreciation. Oberyn was clearly letting her know that he wanted her to feel free to be herself, and she was eager to indulge his want. She ran a hand down the dress, feeling the material; it was truly a marvelous work. She felt a small seam near where her heart would be, and felt something hidden inside. She pulled it out, and was met with a small brooch depicting the Stark sigil.

Oberyn took her on his arm and led her to the table in her room, for he refused to dine with the Lannister’s, claiming that it was all to get to know his bride. He sat her down, and once he was seated. He answered her unasked question. “Your mother and brother knew that you could not openly wear the colors or sigil of your family, but they wanted you to be able to remember your heritage. Once you are my wife, I want you to wear whatever colors you wish.”

With that, he began to eat very suggestively with the grapes on the tray, while Sansa tried to keep from blushing. She had observed Oberyn practicing with several of the Dornish lords, and was quite impressed with his physique. He was rather well built, muscular and skilled with his weapons. None of the lords even came close to beating him, and Sansa bestowed him with a kiss to the cheek when he asked what he won as a prize.

She was slowly breaking free of the cage that the Lannister’s had restricted her with. Oberyn had taken her, Ellaria, and the few ladies of their retinue (for the Dornish were extremely distrusting of the city after the rebellion) into the markets in search of whatever they wanted. He had bought her several ornate pieces of jewelry for the wedding, and he had grinned as Sansa bought a new handkerchief for him, clearly enjoying the blush spreading on her face.

Their deadline of a fortnight was fast approaching, and while she was nervous about the bedding, she was quite eager to be claimed by Oberyn, and no longer within reach of Joffrey. She thought back to the words that had haunted her since her father’s death. He had told her that he would make her a match with someone worthy of her; someone who was brave, gentle, and strong. After her father’s death, and her own thoughts of her complicity, she thought she was getting exactly what she deserved being slowly strangled by Joffrey and the rest of the Lannisters, but then Oberyn had appeared and rescued her from the whims of the king. She would be married in two days’ time, and no one would be able to hurt her without consequence then.

* * *

Sansa tried to settle the nervousness in her stomach as the litter carried her towards the Sept of Baelor. Ellaria put a reassuring arm around her, careful to not snag the intricate plaits they had put her fiery tresses in. Ellaria hugged her closely. “By midday you will be married to the Prince. I know you expect Oberyn to bed you, but if you do not wish, we have a plan to hide that he did not take you. You need not fear.”

Sansa nodded, not feeling strength enough to respond. Ellaria rapped on the frame of the litter, and Sansa’s stomach lurched as they were lowered to the ground. A face of one of the veiled guards appeared.

“Yes, Lady Ellaria?” a familiar voice asked.

Sansa gasped as the veil was shifted to the side, revealing a face she had longed to see for several weeks, needing to apologize.

She launched herself forward and wrapped her arms around the man.

* * *

“Jon!” Sansa cried, “I’m so sorry for everything I said to you. I treated you horribly!” Jon laid his comforting arms around her. “There is nothing to forgive. We are always family. I know I’m only a half-brother, but at least one of your family member’s is here today.” He leaned in close, whispering so only she could hear, “and you are not responsible for anything that has happened.” He broke the hug so he could make sure she saw the truth in his eyes. He held her face for a moment before readjusting the scarf over his face. All Dornish guards had agreed to wear one so that Jon could blend in and accompany Sansa to her wedding. His skin never fully lost its northern tinge, much to his confusion, meaning that he had to be extremely careful. The Prince had him hidden with several other guards, knowing that he wouldn’t want to leave the city without Sansa. He had ridden straight here from Riverrun with Nym and Elia, slipping in with a contingent of Dornish spears that were meeting Ellaria’s escort outside the city. Harmen Uller was very adamant about his daughter’s protection, as he had named her his heir after his failure to find a trueborn heir.

The retinue resumed their march towards the Sept, Jon motioning one of the guards over and telling him to act like he was bringing a message to someone in the Red Keep, knowing that the Lannister’s were undoubtedly spying on the procession. When they got to the Sept, Ellaria gave her arm a squeeze before entering, leaving Jon, Daemon, and Obara outside the doors. She stood there waiting, feeling comforted by the fact that her brother was standing just behind her. The door creaked open, showing the King standing where the father of the bride would be waiting to escort her towards the altar. Her breath hitched as she realized Joffrey had yet one more humiliation for her. As she took a hesitant step towards the vile monster, she heard Jon’s whispering voice.

“He will never touch you again after today.”

Joffrey leered at her as he took her arm.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

Joffrey looked at her as if she were stupid. “Your father is gone. As the father of the realm, it is my duty to give you away to your husband.” He smirked as he led her down the steps, the Dornish contingent trying their best to give her reassuring looks. She had eyes only for Oberyn however, looking more regal than Joffrey could ever hope to be.

Joffrey couldn’t resist one last comment as he handed her to Oberyn. He leaned in close as if to kiss her cheek, and whispered into her ear.

“Once he has taken you and passed out from the wine, maybe I’ll come visit you and get a taste of the North.” He sneered as he went to his place in front of Cersei and Tyrion. She started as a warm hand took her elbow and turned her towards the altar. She glanced up into Oberyn’s eyes, and what a storm they held. She could sense his outrage, having clearly heard Joffrey’s comment, and his sorrow at her obvious fright. He gave her arm a small squeeze, and she felt a sense of peace come over her. She was awash in her thoughts as she felt Oberyn bring the bright orange cloak over her shoulders, cloaking her in his protection. As they recited their vows, she thought back to Oberyn’s words. Now the spears and sands of Dorne would rise up in her name to protect and defend her. Cersei and Tyrion both knew the dangers of an angry Dorne. She could only hope that they would get through to Joffrey in time. Oberyn faced her with a small smile, and he slowly tipped her head up as he brushed her lips with a tender kiss.

Unlike the kisses forced from her by Joffrey, this one was like Lady’s kisses, full of love and the feeling of _safe_. He leaned near her and whispered through the applause, “He will _never_ touch you again, as long as there is breath in my lungs.” She felt tears begin to slide down her face, Cersei and Joffrey clearly thinking he had whispered some vile thing to her, while Jon, hidden in the sea of Dornishmen, was smiling, nearly in tears himself. Oberyn escorted her through the crowd, making sure to place himself between her and the King. Once outside the sept, he helped her into his palanquin, much larger than the one she had shared with Ellaria.

She nearly collapsed into his arms as they began their ascent back to the Red Keep for the feast. She was comforted by his soothing tones.

“You are nearly free of them. As soon as we are able to, we will make for Dorne, with a slight detour of seeing your mother and brother. As soon as they have confirmed their travel, we will make for a friend in the Reach.”

Sansa missed most of his comment, latching onto two words. “You’ve heard from Mother and Robb?”

Oberyn shook his head. “Not for several weeks. Last we heard they were on the move, but nothing more.”

Sansa nodded as she relaxed into his arms once more.

He leaned towards her, whispering despite the fact that there was a literal army around the Dornish retinue.

“When the bedding is called for the Dornish lords will make sure none of the grubby lords are close enough to lay a hand on you. There will be multiple guards at all corners of our area of the Red Keep. The little butcher will not be able to come near you. The Lord Hand has promised his handpicked men will patrol the outer area as an additional layer of protection. I meant what I said that I would protect you.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it.

By this time, the retinue had reached the Red Keep, and Oberyn swept her into the banquet hall. It was a sign that in some cases the King got what he wanted that the banquet hall was one of the smallest in the Keep.  Tyrion had at least managed to preserve the head table on the dais for the newly married couple.

Sansa felt some relief as the meal wore on, Oberyn having instructed the kitchens to have both Dornish foods as well as dishes from north of the Red mountains. The dornish spices were potent to her tongue, but the honeyed milk’s purpose quickly became clear. Oberyn pulled her down to the floor for a quick dance, and she immediately noticed the Dornishmen made sure to engulf them so that none could approach her.  She glanced towards where the Lannister contingent was sitting and felt her blood chill as Joffrey stood up with a gleam in his eye. She twirled to see what he was looking at. Ser Mandon Moore was entering the hall, carrying a tray covered in a cloth.

Joffrey clapped his hands, stopping the music. He was nearly quivering with glee that sent Sansa’s hackles up. Oberyn put an arm around her and gave a small squeeze, but it did little to comfort her. Joffrey gestured for the crowd on the dance floor to return to their seats, while Ser Mandon approached with the tray. Joffrey’s face once more had the wild gleam she was use to when he would have his Kingsguard beat her. She was only vaguely aware of Jon sliding up behind the dais near her, grateful for his presence. Joffrey turned to look at Sansa.

“Dear Sansa, I thought for the longest time on what to give you for a wedding present. I knew how much you longed for family to be here, so I found some for you.” He gestured at Mandon, who set the tray in front of her and removed the cloth. Sansa let out a bloodcurdling scream at the sight it had hid: the bloodied head of her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hesitantly peeks around the top of my laptop* Hi there. Hope you don't hate me! I really debated about what I wanted Joffrey's "gift" to be, and finally settled on Catelyn's head. Or maybe it isn't really Catelyn? I'll keep you guessing for now... I apologize for the lack if updating... I was so excited to finally get to the wedding chapter, and then I decided to suffer a very frustrating case of writer's block... I can't tell you how many times I would open up the document and just stare at the page, with nothing coming to me.... but now I'm back on track! Please leave a comment on the chapter, as I greatly appreciate any and all feedback from my readers! I hope you enjoyed chapter 9!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb witnesses tragedy at the Twins, justice is served.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George RR Martin, and HBO, etc....  
> There is some mature content throughout the chapter.

**Two Weeks Earlier**

Robb looked across the fields surrounding the Twins. His army had assembled, and was holding steady due to the threat given by the Frey’s. Myrcella was standing on the upmost turret, with a noose around her neck and two soldiers ready to throw her to her hanging death if the Stark forces approached. Catelyn had went into the Twins two days prior to attempt to negotiate a peace, as the Lords refused to allow their King into a hostile keep. Robb had tried to argue against it, but Catelyn insisted she owed her good-daughter this much, having caused much strife against her in the beginning of the Stark uprising.

He finally relented once she pointed out that the Frey’s would return Myrcella to the Lannister’s as soon as they received word that the Lannister’s were actively trying to recover her. The band that had attacked Robb had retreated after one of them shouted that “she’s not here”. Robb had been unable to interrogate any of the attackers, as the survivors had executed any of their party that had fallen injured. They had all assumed that the group was hunting Myrcella to return her to King’s Landing, and he had still been unsure of the desperate plan he had agreed to. But now he deeply regretted sending his mother into the Twins.

The corpses of the ten guards that had accompanied her had been launched into the Stark camp, clearly flayed, signaling that Roose Bolton was still holed up with the Frey’s. His mother’s fate had not been revealed for several hours, until the two eldest of Walder Frey’s brood, Lothar and Black Walder had appeared at the top of the turret with Myrcella and Catelyn. Walder had beheaded Catelyn, throwing her body into the river in a mockery of the Tully burial ceremony. Robb had sent a party several miles downstream to recover her body. A messenger had been dispatched to Robb telling him that if they moved to attack the Twins, Myrcella would be hung off the side of the tower before being sent to join her good-mother.

Syrio had approached him, saying that he owed it to Lord Stark to see his family safe. He wanted to enter the keep at night, use his abilities to vanish amongst the Frey’s, and he would get to the top of the tower and defend Myrcella from any and all attackers while Robb’s men stormed the keep. His friends, who had arrived that morning, from where Robb still was not sure, would be able to sabotage the portcullis so that the men could attack at dawn. Syrio would extinguish the torches at the top of the tower to show he was in control of the turret. His forces were ready, the Greatjon and the Blackfish saying that they would make sure Walder and his two eldest sons lived to face the King’s Justice, as would Lord Bolton. Theon was still in a self-imposed state of guilt, having not expected Bolton and the rest of the Frey forces to set upon them with Myrcella, and in his hesitancy to risk her life, had failed to prevent their entrance to the Twins. Robb had told him he was blameless, but he refused to let go of his guilt until he could see Myrcella alive with his own eyes. He had requested to go with a small force to attempt to help defend her alongside Syrio, and Robb had agreed, knowing that he needed to help Theon move on from his guilt.

He heard several pants beside him and looked to see Grey Wind and Nymeria both standing up and looking ready, like they knew it was nearly time. Suddenly he heard a shout from the Blackfish, the torched had been doused. The Greatjon gave a giant roar; and with a cheer of “Queen Myrcella!” the Army of the North swarmed towards the Twins, intent on rescuing their Queen and heir, and avenging the Queen Mother. He quickly started to lead the charge, Grey Wind and Nymeria flanking him. The Frey’s, unprepared for the swarm, clearly were unable to lower the portcullis. They Northmen cut a bloody swath through their ranks, while the group of men following Theon immediately turned right, heading to where they knew the stairs to the turret were. Robb nearly stopped in amazement as he saw Syrio’s friends fighting a group of Frey soldiers. The leader, a man who had introduced himself as “Strider” was clearly as expert a swordsman as Syrio, while his shorter companion was devastating with his axe. Robb had honestly questioned the effectiveness of a battle axe in the hands of such a short man, but his strength was much greater than anticipated. The archer was perched on a stairwell, and was hitting his targets with deadly precision. The fourth member of the group (he believed Strider had called him the “Captain of the White Tower”) was standing back to back with the other man accompanying them, and they were nearly untouchable. Robb was shook out of his reverie by a growl as Grey Wind attacked a man that was nearly upon Robb. He slashed out at the nearest man, and quickly lost himself to the haze of battle.

* * *

Robb stared down in hate at the shriveled old man kneeling on the floor. The Greatjon had roughed both Lords up rather well, with The Blackfish personally killing both Black Walder and Lothar. “Late” Walder looked up at him with hate.

“You’re all alone now boy; can’t go running to mother and father when you don’t know what to do.” He gave a small cry as Greatjon cuffed the side of his head. Suddenly the men around them knelt as Theon and Syrio swept in with Myrcella. Robb rushed to her, and she nearly collapsed in tear in his arms. He wanted to end Walder right there, but refused to make Myrcella see it. He looked at Greatjon, “take Lord Walder and bind him in the cell opposite Lord Bolton. I will deal with them later.”

He ignored them once more as he sat down next to his wife. Grey Wind and Nymeria both came up and lay down at their feet. Myrcella sniffled as she began to speak. “I thought they were going to kill me. Bolton’s bastard was terrifying. Then Roose killed him right in front of me and made talk about keeping me in the North, before Walder decided that he wanted me to be the bait for you mother to come. He knew the Lords would never let you enter the Twins, but with an escort they could draw her into their trap. There was a group of soldiers waiting for them to execute her. They mentioned needing a gift for the King. Walder was assured that once the King had his gift, he would send his army to free the Twins, and make Walder Lord Paramount of the Riverlands.”

Robb looked at her in question. “What gift did your brother want?”

Myrcella shook her head. “I don’t know. They never said. All I know is that the soldiers were leaving in the dead of night through a secret tunnel. They left the night that they killed your mother.” She broke down sobbing, and could barely look at him. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t been captured then she wouldn’t have been killed. You’ve lost both parents because of me.” She finally looked at him with tears in her eyes, “How can you still love me? Even after everything that has happened? What will you do if the baby looks more like me than you?”

Robb was nearly broken by the pain in her voice. He just sank into the chaise and held her close.

“Sweet girl, I will always love you. You are not to blame for the happenings in the world. Mother came here knowing that she could be killed. She said it was the least she owed for all the strife she put you through. The Bolton’s kidnapped you, and the Frey’s broke guest right. One of the things we insisted on was they offer guest right before my mother would approach. They gave her salt and bread, and then they killed her in front of us. Lord Umber wanted to bring the keep down around their ears if it were not for the threat of your life, and that of our babe. Walder will pay for his crimes, as will any member of his house that took part in this action.” He just held her there, taking comfort in her presence the same as she was with him. Today was to mourn and rejoice with one another. His justice would come tomorrow.

* * *

Robb looked down from the chair of the Lord of the Crossing at the two disgraced lords. What a mismatched pair of turncloaks. Walder Frey looked as if he was on the verge of soiling himself, the bruising on his face clearly indicating that Greatjon had taken some justice for himself after seeing the state of his Queen, while Roose had the same blank look he always wore. Robb stood with all the regality he could muster. He glared at Walder. “Where did you dispose of my mother’s head? You have already defiled her corpse in a mockery of the funeral rites of the Riverlands. You will tell me where you disposed of it, or you will witness the same punishment.”

Walder just shook, so Robb nodded to his great uncle to bring in the first two prisoners. Walder blinked as his eldest son and heir, Ryman, and his heir, Edwyn were brought in and made to kneel in front of a block placed by Lord Forrester. Robb looked at Walder as Theon brought Ice in. Tyrion had returned the Stark ancestral sword along with Ned’s bones as a gesture of good faith, and Robb was more than willing to use it for justice, as his father had before him. He took it and looked at Walder Frey and his brood, all of whom were escorted in to watch.

“Where did you dispose of my mother’s head?” Walder refused to answer, so Robb turned towards Ryman. He was vaguely aware of Myrcella creeping into the hall, but he did not care enough to stop. These men had defiled his mother’s corpse. He would have his justice. He swiftly brought the sword down on Ryman’s neck, and was nearly deafened by the screams coming from his kin. He looked at Walder, who was staring blankly at the head of his heir. Robb asked again, and still silence. He gestured Edwyn into the same position as his father, and swiftly brought the sword down on him as well. Walder finally screeched for him to stop when the Greatjon moved the block in front of him.

“Fine!” he exclaimed, “There was a group of Lannister soldiers, they were led by a Kingsguard. They needed me to find a way to deliver Catelyn Stark to them for the King. He wanted her head to present to your sister on her wedding day. You didn’t know that, did you boy? The King, he promised us pardons, and our ascensions as Lords Paramount of the Riverlands and the North in exchange for getting your mothers head, once Lord Bolton failed to deliver Lord Jaime to King’s Landing.

 Robb was seeing red. He turned to Brynden, who promptly lowered Walder to the block. “I, Robb Stark, King of Winter, of the North and the Trident, for the crimes of kidnapping, treason, murder, attempted murder, and threatening the queen and heir to the Crown of Winter, hereby sentence you to die.” He brought Ice down on the Late Lord Frey and took his last breath from him. He turned to the Greatjon, who knew exactly what to do. He kicked Walder’s corpse out of the way and shoved Roose Bolton into his place.

Robb glared at him with loathing.

“I, Robb Stark, King of Winter, of the North, and the Trident, for the crimes of kidnapping, treason, murder, attempted murder, and threatening the queen and heir to the Crown of Winter, hereby sentence you to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm sorry I've killed Catelyn, but I just felt like I couldn't have it be a stunt to torment Sansa, it needed to be real, especially for Oberyn's reaction (which will dominate the next chapter). I tossed around an idea for several weeks about Syrio's "friends", and decided to go ahead with my original plan. I'm fairly certain you all know why they are, what can I say, I was watching the movies when I wrote that...
> 
> Now for a side note that I was hesitant to write, but I feel the need to, as I have seen this on other stories of smaller pairings... As I state at the end of every chapter, I appreciate all comments and feedback I receive, however, I do retain the right to delete any that are not about my particular story. Comments about how "bad" a pairing is because one is older or is philandering while the other is young and virtuous, with no actual comment about *MY* story will be deleted. There are reddit threads and tumblr forums for those discussions or comments. 
> 
> That being said, I do look forward to the email notifications that I have received a comment, although I always get nervous when loading the page out of fear that someone won't like what I wrote or noticed a mistake (as with me forgetting that you can't see inside my head to know how Tyrion came to be the Hand of The King...
> 
> I hope you enjoyed Chapter 10!
> 
> Up next: Joffrey's actions have major consequences.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout of Joffrey's gift rears it's head, and Dorne begins it's game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George RR Martin, and HBO, etc....

Sansa’s cry of distress tore through the hall. She was barely aware of Oberyn turning her away from the gruesome sight, turning her towards Jon, who embraced her as much as he could without revealing his identity. She flinched as the sound of a dagger embedding itself in the wood of the table rang through the hall. Oberyn stood as the Dornish lords roused themselves into a fury, clamoring about the insult done to their new princess. Joffrey’s grin faltered as Oberyn stood to his full height, his fury evident on his face. Before he could utter a single word that would incite his Lords to violence, the Hand spoke up, trying to keep the now broken peace.

“Ser Mandon, take that away immediately.” Joffrey whirled on his uncle, while his mother approached, trying to get him away before he could do further harm.

“Ser Mandon will do no such thing uncle. I command the princess Sansa to look upon my gift and thank me for it. If you hadn’t taken her traitor father’s head, I could have given her it as well, and then both her parents would have both been here.” He snickered. Oberyn’s hand was balled in a fist at his side, knowing that if he reached for it again, it would end up buried in the chest of the little butcher king that dared torment his new wife in front of him. His voice trembled in barely contained wroth. “You dare disrespect the Princess of Dorne in such a manner in front of the entire realm?” His voice was soft, but the underlying edge had Joffrey taking a step back. The Dornish Lords began to once more shout in indignation at the treatment of their princess’ lady-mother.

Oberyn stalked around the table to come within an inch of Joffrey. “Your father approved of the butchering of my sister, as well as that of my niece and nephew. We came here because your butcher father is dead. It appears you are no better. Dorne will have no further part of the kingdoms. My lady-wife and I are leaving the capitol to return to Dorne within a fortnight, and if you are wise, you will do nothing to stop us. Any Baratheon or Lannister that crosses our borders will die upon the spears and sands of Dorne, and their bones thrown to the scorpions.”

He signaled, and the Dornish guards and Lords quickly surrounded Sansa, making sure the women were in the center of the group, nearest to Sansa, who was clinging to Jon with every fiber of her being. Ellaria had also wrapped her arms around the horrorstruck young woman, and Obara, not known for her softness, was clearly moved by the distraught princess. They had barely made it through the door when Sansa collapsed in tears. Jon pulled her to his chest, clearly not letting her go, even for Oberyn. Oberyn took one last look at the hall, specifically the King, who was pale and still frozen to the dais.

“My men will have orders to kill any man that approaches or tries to enter the Dornish wing, no matter his title. House Martell will brook no more insults.”

Oberyn marched their contingent straight back to their rooms. Once they had arrived he ordered the stewards to immediately begin packing, as they were leaving as soon as possible. He nodded for Jon, who had carried Sansa the entire way. After ordering Cletus and Daemon to oversee the posting of the guards, he entered his solar. Jon was sitting on the chaise, while Sansa’s head was in his shoulder, crying tears that Oberyn had wished he would never had to see again. He crossed to the chaise and knelt in front of her.

“My love, I must give you my deepest apologies. Never in my dreams did I imagine that the little butcher would go that far. I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you. You deserved to feel free and safe on the day of your wedding, as we had intended, not tormented.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips for a small kiss. Sansa grabbed his hand and brought him closer to her, moving off of Jon to embrace her new husband.

“This only worked because Joffrey thought you would abuse me. Now he’ll know that you would not do as such. He won’t stop until he gets me back. He will kill all of you if it meant getting me back.”

Oberyn stood and pulled her into his arms. “That will not happen, Sweetling; for we will not be staying here long. If able, the stewards will get our possessions to Dorne, but we leave King’s Landing tonight.” He was vaguely aware of the looks he was receiving from everyone in the room, but his blood was still boiling inside. He had somehow let this sweet innocent lady into his heart like he had let Ellaria all those years ago, and he wanted nothing more than to get her safely away from the cesspit called King’s Landing. He turned to Daemon, who had reentered the solar in time to hear Oberyn’s declaration.

“Daemon, get the men ready to leave, 100 spears will remain to escort the stewards and our belongings. The rest will provide escort home. Ser Cletus, take 10 men and make for the rookery. Send a raven to Sunspear. My brother can alert the borderland lords to be ready to provide escort and safe haven for us if we are attacked. I trust the Tyrells little more than the Stormlanders.”

He turned to speak to Jon and Sansa when a knock at the door interrupted them. Daemon opened it and froze. Lord Varys and Lord Tyrion stood on the other side, Tyrion’s bodyguard behind them. Oberyn nodded for their admittance. Tyrion immediately moved towards Sansa, but stopped when Jon put a hand on his pommel.

Tyrion gave a small sad smile. “You need not protect your sister from me, Jon Snow. Lord Varys and I come with a warning.” He turned to Oberyn, who had moved to sit next to Sansa on the chaise. “My terrible nephew is beside himself with anger. He is currently with his mother, calling for your head for speaking to him as you did. My sister, for what little control she has over him, is trying to keep him from doing anything rash. Unfortunately, there are still plenty of lords in the Capitol that will rush to obey him, including some of my own Lords that still aren’t happy about some of the changes I’ve enacted after my father’s death. Varys is here to help you disappear in the night.”

Varys stepped forward. “Prince Oberyn, I believe that House Stark will have a large role in the wars to come, and if the King or the Queen Mother is made aware of your new alliance, then they will stop at nothing to see you all killed. I fear that the time to leave the capitol has come, and the time for our plan to begin will soon come. But we must leave the capitol at once. I told Joffrey that I would inform him as soon as my little birds learned of your plans. But if we disappear tonight, the body in my room will help convince them that you killed me.”

Oberyn nodded at the short pink man, having learned to trust the man’s loyalty to the realm. “The time has come to seat the true ruler of Westeros on the Iron Throne. They must be made aware once we have returned to Dorne.”

Varys shook his head in agreement. “My little birds are already making their way to the Dragon-court.”

Suddenly there was the sound of clashing steel. One of the guards, accompanied by the commander of Tyrion’s escort, Ser Addam Marbrand, ran in.

“My prince, there are red cloaks led by a Kingsguard demanding the arrest of you and Princess Sansa.”

Ser Addam looked at Tyrion. “The Red Cloak’s are being led by Ser Rolph Spicer, and Kingsguard Ser Preston Greenfield.”

Jon stood up and drew his sword. “That man has haunted my sister’s steps for too long.” Sansa had told them how each member of the Kingsguard had treated her. He made to pass Oberyn but the man’s arm snaked out and he stopped the boy from leaving to confront the dishonorable knight. “Our priority is getting you and Sansa away from Joffrey,” he turned to the Spider, “I’m assuming you have a means of leaving?”

Varys gave his silky grin, “I believe I do, Prince Oberyn.”

He turned towards the hearth and pushed against one of the inlaid stones near the mantle. Suddenly there was a passageway into the interior of the castle. Oberyn took Sansa’s hand, and signaling Cletus and Daemon to follow Varys’ lead, the group made their way into the secret passages. After several winding minutes, Tyrion, Ser Addam, and Ser Bronn, split off, leading back to Tyrion’s quarters in the Tower of the Hand, so that they could appear to stop the Red Cloak’s actions.

Varys led them towards the stables, where there was a small party of Red Cloaks waiting with horses for them. The Dornish Lords quickly mounted, before thundering through the gates of the Red Keep. Oberyn took the lead, while Sansa, who was mounted on the same horse as her brother, was sequestered in the middle of the pack. They were nearly to the mouth of the Iron Gate when suddenly there was an army of Gold Cloaks waiting for them, with Ser Meryn Trant in the front. Oberyn peered behind them, and saw several Lannister banner men approaching. Meryn Trant wore the same grin he always had, clearly feeling that more reinforcements were coming to halt the Dornish. But he was to be surprised, for Oberyn saw who was leading the Lannister contingent.

As he began to move once more, the Gold Cloaks lining the Iron Gate drew their arrows, clearly willing to shoot the Dornish royal party. He stopped, approaching Trant, while Ser Addam moved to sit next to Oberyn.

Addam spoke up so all the soldiers could hear.

“The Hand of the King has ordered me to escort the Prince of Dorne from King’s Landing. Stand aside Ser Meryn, and let them pass.

Meryn had a wicked gleam in his eyes as he looked right at Sansa. “My orders come from the King himself. He has declared himself to have the first rights to the whore Sansa, and has sent me to bring Prince Oberyn to him on his knees for the threatening insults he gave him.” Cletus and Daemon drew their swords, as the gold cloaks began to move towards them. Addam refused to move, ordering the Lannister soldiers to form a wall around the Dornish party. Meryn yelled for the Gold Cloaks to attack in the name of Joffrey.

There was a piercing scream from Sansa, and Oberyn felt his blood freeze. One of the archers had struck true. He watched in agony as Ellaria fell from her mount, an arrow sticking out from her chest. Oberyn jumped from his sand steed, throwing his spear towards the nearest enemy. He turned towards Jon, shouting at him. “Get the Princess out of the city now!” Varys was right next to her, clearly uncomfortable astride, but doing a manageable job of staying mounted. Jon, with Daemon, Cletus, and at least 30 other knights followed a wall of mounted soldiers through the gold cloaks. He turned back once he saw that they had safely passed the Iron Gate. Now he knew what he had to do. He had to avenge his former lover’s death, and ensure the safety of his princess. He soon found himself face to face with the dishonorable Kingsguard that haunted Sansa’s every waking moment, as well as her nightmares. Here was the man that had taken a delight in tormenting her for the sadistic butcher, and he would make the little man suffer every single injury he had inflicted on his innocent princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I am fairly certain on where this story is heading, and I hope you enjoy following along! As always, I appreciate your comments, as they do inspire me to keep writing!  
> Also, quite disappointed that Kit was the only GG nominee, as I felt Emelia, Peter, and Nikolaj did amazing considering their terrible plotlines....


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